Fire, Blood, and Serious Burns
by TheMadMailman
Summary: Complete! A ghost from the past comes back, reprising his role of standing between Mustang and Hawkeye. Rebellion, violence, and the build-up to war don't help the situation much either.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One: It Is Arranged**

_Disclaimer: I don't own this stuff, except the stuff I create on my own._

It only takes one man to save us all… and it only takes one more to damn us…

"Colonel Mustang! Allow me to be the first to extend my congratulations!" These words were hollow and ominous, coming from a hollow and ominous Brigadier General with a sizeable stack of papers under his arm. It is never good when men like this extend congratulations. Mustang wondered who let this man into his office.

"May I ask what I am being congratulated on, Brigadier General?" Mustang replied, not rising from his desk.

"Recent developments regarding the Vyron Province have led High Command to determine that an influx of military presence in to area is required to ensure loyalty and economic stability of the region. In light of your ahem _heroic_ exploits during the Ishbal campaign, it has been decided upon that you and the soldiers currently under your command are to be reassigned to command of a Light Infantry Combat Battalion to be assigned to peacekeeping operations in and around the city of Vyronas. I am here to present you with your new assignment, to offer congratulations on your return to active combat duty, and to provide you with the information concerning your new command."

Mustang was not happy to hear this. He didn't like combat, he didn't like Vyronas, and he _hated_ Light Infantry. Moreover, he greatly enjoyed the almost civilian-like atmosphere of a bureaucratic posting; he loved Central City, and was perfectly happy with his current command, which consisted of only five other soldiers and a dog.

The Brigadier General sensed protest brewing in Mustang and hastily dropped the papers on Mustang's desk with a weighty thump before quickly scooting out the door.

Mustang sighed. "Lieutenant Hawkeye!" He barked. "Would you please come here?"

First Lt Hawkeye stepped into the office, leaving the door open behind her. "Yes, sir?" she asked.

Mustang tossed her the stack of dossiers, documents, reports, write-ups, and other assorted military paperwork that the Brigadier General had seen so fit to leave on his desk. "This is the

intelligence about my new command. I would like you to review it and condense it for me. Lt Havoc will assist you with this."

"Yes, sir," Hawkeye replied. The stack was surprisingly heavy and bursting at the seams with what appeared to be the single largest number of disciplinary write-ups Hawkeye had ever seen in one report.

"I need to clear my mind," Mustang said next. "I believe I shall take a walk." With that, Mustang rose from his desk and sauntered off.

Lt Hawkeye carried the report on the new assignment to her desk and sat down, not looking forward to condensing this weighty, thick, disorganized pile of papers into something concise enough for Mustang to read. She called Lt Havoc over to help her sort it. Havoc slid his chair over to her, scooting up next to her a bit closer than she would have preferred.

"What's this?" Havoc asked, smoke from his cigarette forming a dull cloud around his head.

"I'll tell you when you put that thing out." Hawkeye sternly replied.

Havoc made a noise like a disappointed puppy and obediently crushed out his smoke. Content Havoc was no longer blowing lung-blackening soot about the office, Hawkeye informed his of the news and of their assignment.

"Damn," he said.

"Yes, quite." Hawkeye replied. "Mustang wants us to take all this information and edit and condense it down into something more concise."

"Alright, I can do that." Havoc answered. "So, who's are new Unit?"

Hawkeye looked at the cover of the report. "It says it's the Seventh Light Infantry Combat Battalion."

Havoc nodded. "Okay, who's the commander? Anyone we've heard of?"

Hawkeye looked back to the report. "It says here the Commanding Officer is a Lieutenant Colonel Cooper Mordec-…" Hawkeye's voice trailed off.

"What is it Riza? DO you know this guy?" Havoc said, concerned.

Hawkeye leaned back in her chair, eyes toward the ceiling. "I thought he was dead… Mustang will not be happy about this…"

"What won't I be happy about, Lt?" Mustang said, striding back into the office, looking refreshed.

Hawkeye looked over at her Colonel. "The commanding officer of our new assignment, it's Cooper Mordecai," she said.

Mustang stopped dead in his tracks. "Oh, shit…" he breathed, plainly audible in the silence of the room.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two: Embers Among the Ash**

_Disclaimer: Legit, I don't own this stuff. Seriously, c'mon guys._

Mustang could not believe it. _And today had started out so well… _he thought, thinking back to this morning and the secretary he woken up next to. Mustang walked past Hawkeye and slammed to door to his office behind him.

The room sat in silence.

"Wh- what was that about?" Lt Feury ventured.

"The Colonel is upset, Feury," Hawkeye responded, not looking up from her desk. "We have been reassigned to act as a command team for a Light Infantry Combat Battalion in the city of Vyronas. Colonel Mustang does not like this. What really upsets him is the fact that the commander of the battalion we are to take over, a man who, according to this, will become Mustang's second-in-command, in someone Mustang has dealt with in the past. Mustang did not enjoy the experience."

"How so?" Warrant Officer Falman asked, looking up from his work. He did not like the news either; he preferred the calm, even, and predictable pace of this bureaucratic position.

Hawkeye sighed. _It's best they know the whole story, _she thought_ otherwise, who knows the conclusions they'll jump to._ "As you all know, Mustang and I served in the Ishbal campaign, along with Major Hughes. Several of our… operations included cooperative action with a special detachment of Light Infantry. The Light Infantry is a select branch of the military, specializing in commando-style actions in rough terrain and stress aggression, initiative, and precision from their members. According to them, only the best soldiers will even be _considered_ for Light Infantry, and only the best of the best will be allowed to join."

"Heh, then why aren't you in the Light Infantry?" Havoc interjected, trying to make a joke.

Hawkeye sighed again. "I was given the opportunity once, but Colonel Mustang convinced me not to join."

The other soldiers exchanged glances, wondering what this meant.

Hawkeye began again. "Mordecai, then a First Lieutenant, was in command of a Platoon of Light Infantry that Mustang, Hughes, I, and a few other soldiers were assigned to work with. Mustang and Mordecai… well, they didn't get along. Their personalities, their personal beliefs, their behavior, and their styles of leadership set them at odds. They… _grated_ with each other."

"Basically, Mustang would say toe-may-toe and this Mordecai fellow would say toe-mah-toe?" Havoc shot in next, still trying to crack a joke.

Hawkeye shot back with a steel glare. "No, Lt Havoc." She growled. "A better analogy would be Mustang would say toe-may-toe and Mordecai would tell Mustang to go fuck himself. And that's quite literally what would happen."

The assembled men nodded in unison.

"Didn't Col Mustang ever do anything about his guy?" Lt Breda asked. "It's not like the Colonel to let himself be pushed around like that!"

Hawkeye turned her eyes to Breda. "Well, Mustang once told Mordecai that if Mordecai didn't back off and let Mustang lead the unit the way he wanted to lead it… well, Mustang threatened Mordecai, in no uncertain terms, that if Mordecai didn't let Mustang do things his way then Mordecai might just find himself a little bit too close to one of Mustang's alchemical reactions."

Havoc was having trouble with the uptake. "Wait, are you saying the Colonel _threatened_ another soldier with bodily harm?"

"Exactly," Hawkeye replied.

"What did Mordecai say to that?" Havoc asked, grinning. He knew his Colonel wouldn't let no foot-slogging infantry officer push him around.

Hawkeye turned back to Havoc. "He didn't _say_ anything. Mordecai was a man who let actions speak louder than words."

"What did he do?" Havoc asked, not liking where this was going.

Hawkeye grinned a little bit. "Mordecai punched Mustang in the jaw. Knocked him right out, too. When Mustang woke up, one of Mordecai's snipers personally informed Mustang that if he ever did anything to hurt their boss, well… his exact word were 'they'll never find you body.'" 

Hawkeye finished the story with a tiny laugh and a little bit of a sadistic grin. She remembered those days well.

"Lieutenant?" Feury asked, quietly, almost inaudibly.

"Yes?" Hawkeye responded.

"How… how did you get along with Mordecai?"

Hawkeye glared daggers at Feury, who flinched in response.

"How _I_ feel about that man is my own business and my business alone. It is of no matter to you my relationship with Cooper Mordecai." Hawkeye barked, a Lieutenant's voice assuming a General's authority.

With that, she rose from here seat, shoved all the intelligence on the new unit into Havoc's lap, told him to 'deal with this,' and stormed out, leaving the other men in stunned silence.

She walked down the hall, mentally berating herself for snapping at Feury like that, but her reasons were her own. Mordecai was a touchy subject with her. She paused, lifting her head to look at the clear blue skies out the window of the corridor. She needed to talk to somebody about this, someone who understood what Mordecai meant to her, and how the dynamic between him and Mustang could potentially put soldier's lives on the line. It had gotten men killed before, and probably would again. _Hughes_, Hawkeye thought. He was there. She could talk to him. Hawkeye turned on her hell and walk down the hall in the other direction, out a doorway, across a courtyard, and into the Intelligence Department, where she was finally able to track down Hughes at his desk.

"Maes," she began, "I've got a problem."

"Okay," Hughes said, looking away from some report or another on his desk. "What's up?"

"Well, we're getting transferred. Mustang, me, Havoc, all of us from up in that office. We have to go take command of a Light Infantry Unit in Vyronas. Mustang doesn't like this."

"Okay," Hughes nodded.

"But the big problem," Hawkeye went on, "Is that Mustang is going to have to share command of the unit with its current commander."

"Okay," Hughes said again.

"The problem is… the commander, the man Mustang has to share command with… it's Cooper Mordecai."

Hughes' eyes bulged; he dropped his glasses onto his desk. "Cooper?" he asked, almost silently. Hawkeye nodded, not once breaking eye contact. Hughes sat back in his seat, whistled once, and said "oh, shit."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three: Kindling**

_Disclaimer: Look, I still down own this._

The train rattled as it crossed over some insignificant stream over some barely standing bridge. It was a small train; an armored engine, an armor-plated passenger car, a steel box car, and an armored caboose with a machine gun turret on top. It was a solid, military train. And it was heading towards Vyronas.

Colonel Mustang rapped his knuckles against the thick glass of the window. He had been told that if the train was attacked, then he should pull down the metal screen to protect himself. He didn't care. It was a disgustingly long ride, to a city Mustang viewed as disgusting and worthless. He'd spent time in Vyronas before and wasn't impressed. He found the ancient monuments of bygone civilization boring. He found the drinking establishments to be rude, crude, and lewd, but not in any good ways. The girls were pretty, but all their boyfriends carried knives, and all their fathers carried shotguns. He found that last part out the hard way. While taking refuge at the office of the local military consulate, he found out much about local politics. Everything was based around family loyalty and animal husbandry. Mustang did not like Vyronas, and was not looking forward to policing it.

Mustang turned away from the window and the rolling, scrub-covered hills. He looked across the car to Lt Hawkeye. Hawkeye had been unusually quiet since hearing about the new assignment and hadn't said a word yet during the train ride. It was now midmorning of the second day of the trip. They were to arrive in Vyronas by midnight, but still Hawkeye remained silent. All she had done the entire ride was sleep, stare absentmindedly out the window, and flip through an old hardbound book. Mustang could see it was a photo album, but he couldn't see what the photos were of.

Mustang decided then he needed to know what Hawkeye had in that album. Hawkeye was not known for sentimentality.

After another hour of silence, Hawkeye rose from her seat. "Lieutenant," Mustang asked.

"Sir?" Hawkeye replied.

"Where are you going?"

"I am going to pay a visit to the caboose, sir."

"Why?"

"Remember yesterday when one of the crew asked us to pay a visit if we ever wanted to play some cards? Well, one of them claimed to be unbeatable at five-card draw. I think I can change that perception."

Mustang was surprised. "You _gamble_, Lieutenant?"

Hawkeye looked away. "I haven't since Ishbal, but if memory serves, the Light Infantry loves to gamble. I think I will brush up on my form, sir." With that, Hawkeye stepped out of the car and through the accordion-like like to the boxcar and towards the caboose behind it.

Mustang was not amused. Hawkeye was different. She was both more reserved than before, but was also less reserved. Her attitude had at once tightened, but also loosened. After all, she was almost silent as of late, but she was gambling with military railway workers.

Mustang then noticed the album. He looked towards the door, than back to the album. He decided it would be worth it. What would Hawkeye do? Shoot him for looking through an album? He was her superior officer, damnit.

Mustang rose from his seat and lunged for the album. His hand fell on the book at exactly the same time as another. "Havoc!" Mustang barked. "What are you doing?" Havoc looked back in surprise, "Same thing you are, chief."

Mustang and Havoc looked at each other, back to the album, to the door, to the album, and to each other again. "We'll have to look quick, before she gets back." Havoc whispered, a newfound sense of secrecy about him. Mustang nodded, and the pair slipped back towards Mustang's booth.

They sat down and cracked the album open. The first page was blank except for a handwritten title across the page; "_Ishbal_" the title read. They turned the page.

The photos contained were a chronological progression through Hawkeye's experiences in the Ishbal Campaign. As they got deeper into the album, Hawkeye's hair got longer, her uniform disciple got worse, and Mustang began appearing in progressively less of the pictures. Light Infantry men began appearing more and more, with a few standing out in particular.

Two soldiers appeared with increasing consistency. One was a tall and slim, but muscular. He looked outright dangerous, with long braided hair, a full beard, interwoven tattoos up and down both arms and on his chest and neck and a big, mean Browning Automatic Rifle in his arms. The other was a goofy looking redhead. He didn't look like a soldier at all. He was beanpole thin, wiry, his hair was a mess, going every which way, looking as if it was trying to escape his head as quickly as possible, curling back inwards and outwards on itself. He appeared to be very close to Hawkeye, as many of the pictures contained them together somehow, hugging or sitting together, or whatever.

"Hey, chief?" Havoc asked. "Who's this guy here? This one with the red hair?"

Mustang grunted. "I don't know," he snapped. "One of the Light Infantry men. It doesn't matter who he was!"

"Hey, just askin'! Calm down…" Havoc said, raising his arms in a gesture of defense.

Mustang grunted again.

Soon after that, the red headed soldier stopped appearing in the photographs completely. The tall guy with the tattoos and braids began appearing in almost all of them, Hawkeye almost always with him. Havoc felt strange. It was like he was watching Hawkeye's life go by page by page, each photo a moment in her life captured and contained. He watched her getting closer to the tall soldier; there was one page that contained no less than four pictures of her in his arms.

"Hey, Colonel," Havoc began, "don't get mad or nothing but, who's _this_ guy?" Havoc asked jabbing a finger at the picture of the soldier with the braids and tattoos.

"That would be Copper Mordecai," a stern voice came in over his shoulder. Havoc and Mustang wheeled around to find Lt Hawkeye standing over them.

There was silence.

"Oh, shit…" breathed Havoc and Mustang in unison.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four: Building the Fire**

_Disclaimer: Still don't own nothing. Working on it, though._

Mustang sat in silence as the train pulled around a bend and the city of Vyronas just came into view on the horizon. He didn't care. Hawkeye had been visibly upset when she discovered him and Havoc snooping through her album. Havoc had gotten pistol whipped and Mustang had only escaped punishment by tossing the album into the air and, when Hawkeye was distracted with catching it, he dashed towards the lavatory and locked himself in until she left. When he emerged Havoc told him she had taken the album, her dog, and the personal gear and left to 'play more poker.' The commotion had succeeded in waking Falman, Feury, and Breda, who were asleep for the majority of the drama. This lead to a hurried explanation and orders to 'go back to sleep.'

Mustang thumped his forehead against the glass. He sighed, and spent the next hour watching Vyronas grow closer and closer as the train chugged slowly along a winding and rather unnecessarily long route.

The train eventually pulled within the limits of Vyronas, and the scrubby hills and rocky badlands were replaced with low, white, square buildings. They were plastered white to keep them cool in the sun, Mustang had heard last time he was here. Their roofs were flat because people slept on the roofs during summer, he'd heard too. He couldn't have cared less.

One thing the military had done that the Vyronans had appreciated was build a new train station, a huge marble affair designed to mimic the architecture of the ruins that littered the area, but still vaguely resemble the buildings at military headquarters in Central. It was supposed to represent the authority from Central as a continuation of the ancient order, or something like that Mustang remembered reading. Mustang doubted the people of Vyronas were smart enough to figure that out. People had liked it at first, but after taxes had to be raised to pay off the construction and Amestrian Emblems were hung throughout the building, the people became quite less appreciative, but they still like the building, just not the authority who put it there, nor the flags displayed throughout it, nor the soldiers who stood guard, but they liked the building.

The train rolled into a tunnel and eventually pulled to a stop at a raised platform deep underneath the marble edifice of the station itself. There was a heavy military presence on the platform. Most of it Light Infantry.

The Light Infantry is a special group. They are elite. They are famous for using aggressive; some would say foolhardy, tactics whenever possible. They specialize in smaller engagements, where they have freedom to improvise and adapt as needed. They don't even wear blue uniforms 

anymore, having switched to deep forest green fatigues with a black trim after the Ishbal Campaign. They also eschew excess ornamentation, no medals or award bars or golden tassels on their uniforms, just their rank, sewn in black chevrons on their sleeve. They wear light boots, not the tall riding-style boots of the normal military. The one thing they are most famous for are their infamous black caps. All Light Infantry troopers posses a black cadet cap. (Some people call them 'field caps' or 'patrol caps.')

The Light Infantry is regarded as a highly unorthodox unit by even the most liberal of officers. They drink heavily, gamble about everything (the motto of the Third Light Infantry Combat Battalion is "Bet on Whatever"), most smoke, they fight frequently, and are understood to be an almost completely undisciplined at best, downright dangerous at worst. They don't follow military dress rules, don't follow code of conduct rules, and express a high degree of individualism in their behaviors and mannerisms. But the military keeps them around for two reasons; first, they make excellent special forces, second, whenever the military comes up against an unconventional foe, they send in the Light Infantry, who don't fight conventionally themselves, so they are a perfect response to insurgencies and hostile guerillas. The military like having Light Infantry, but at any point in time, upwards of three-quarters of the Light Infantry will be in active duty. The military views the Light Infantry as dangerous, so they try to keep them busy as much as possible. The Light Infantry knows this, and they love it.

As the train finally came to a full and complete stop, Lt Hawkeye came back into the car from the caboose, followed by her dog and her duffle bag over her shoulder. She quickly ran to the window, looking out on the assembled soldiers. At this point, a number of the Light Infantry soldiers on the platform began waving. Hawkeye's eyes lit up, she smiled widely, and waved back. She quickly turned away from the window and dashed towards the door.

Mustang was not happy. Hawkeye had just completely ignored him, brushing him aside for some Light Infantry scum she hadn't seen in years. Mustang thought back to the last encounter he had with Light Infantry and it did not comfort him. He and the rest of the men in the car began to assemble their belongings, but Hawkeye, however, was already out the door.

Hawkeye jumped from the car to the platform, tossing her duffle onto a waiting luggage cart as she leapt by. She had found old friends.

"Dio! Hutch! Tank! Ace! Dawz!" Hawkeye shouted, nicknames for friends from her past said once again.

"HAWK!" came the ecstatic response of the soldiers whose nicknames she shouted. They rushed to her, setting off a mess of bear hugs and yelling as the men re-collided with an old friend.

One soldier, who Hawkeye remembered as a Private First Class, but was now a Company First Sergeant, seized Hawkeye in vice-like hug and screamed in her face "Holy fuck, it's great to see you again!" which he supplemented with a kiss on each cheek. He always was an emotional fellow.

Hawkeye blushed, "Nice to see you again too, Dio!" Dio was just a nickname, his full name was Anton Diotlas, but he'd been known as Dio for years.

"Hey, Hawk," came a low, even, almost shy voice accompanied by a mighty hand clasping around her shoulder. Hawkeye turned around, breaking free of Dio's grip to face a man who was like a brother to her, the biggest, kindest, and most bashful and loveable heavy machine gunner in the military. A strong, wide, muscular man named Franconi, but universally known and loved as Tank. Tank bear-hugged Hawkeye, who felt tiny and insignificant in his massive embrace. "Guess who's here to see ya, Hawk…" Tank whispered into her ear.

Hawkeye turned as Tank released her, and saw Lt Col Cooper Mordecai come sailing through the crowd of assembled soldier, who parted before him like a fog. Mordecai was smiling ear to ear, his BAR across his back and his arms spread wide.

"Cooper!"

"Hawk!"

Hawkeye ran to Mordecai, leaping into his arms, not quite sure if this was really happening. Mordecai swung her around, almost taking a half-dozen regular infantry out with her feet. Mordecai eventually put her down, but kept her held tight to him, "Can't believe it's you!" he said, "Can't believe it!"

"Me neither…" she whispered.

"Hey, Boss!" Dio shouted, "You ain't gonna believe this shit! Look who just got his fat ass off the train!"

Cooper slowly released Hawkeye and slowly turned around. "No fuckin' way..." he breathed making eye contact with Mustang for the first time in years.

Silence fell over the platform. Tank cracked his knuckles. Another Light Infantry trooper pulled out his Colt pistol and released the safety, before sliding it slowly back into its holster.

Havoc looked at Breda, and said; "Oh, shit…"


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five: Fuel**

_Sorry to report, but I still don't own squat. It's a damn shame, I know._

Mustang scowled. This was nothing new. He'd been scowling when he got off the train, he was scowling as he rode in a military truck to the military headquarters in Vyronas, he'd scowled harder when he found out the HQ had been moved outside the city eleven months ago, he scowled when he saw the base, and he set a new world record for power scowling when he got out of the truck and saw Mordecai and two other Light Infantry men giving Hawkeye what he presumed to be a tour of the base. Mordecai had his arm around Hawkeye's waist.

"Chief? You alright?" Havoc asked, leaning into Mustang's vision from the right.

"Peachy, Havoc." Mustang spat out. Havoc, looking hurt, retreated from Mustang's sight.

_If looks could kill_… Mustang mused, staring daggers at the back of Lt Col Mordecai's head. Understand, Mustang hated Mordecai. He hated everything about that man. He hated his behavior, the way he looked, the way he lead, the way he spoke, the way he fought, and the way he thought. It was personal dislike of Cooper Mordecai as a man, and also professional dislike of Cooper Mordecai as a soldier. It was also envy, as Mordecai was a superb soldier, although Mustang would never admit it. It was pure jealousy, founded not only on their past experiences with each other, but also over a particular bone of contention named Riza Hawkeye. Beyond that, there was contempt. Mustang didn't like Mordecai on principle, and learned to hate him on experience. Mordecai was a lower class in every way. Mustang grew up in a wealthy, worldly family in the nicest part of Central. Mordecai came from a long line of farmers, woodsmen, and blue-collar/no-collar workers from some godforsaken region of the nation. Mustang was an alchemist and an upward-bound officer fast-tracked to succeed in the military. Mordecai was a common soldier with a gun in his hand. Mustang hated Mordecai.

Mustang watched Mordecai as he and Hawkeye strolled across the base. Mordecai was, as far as Mustang was concerned, a sorry excuse for a soldier. Mustang (begrudgingly) would admit Mordecai was an exemplary _fighter_, but as far as soldiers go, Mordecai is not a good one.

_Just look at him,_ Mustang thought. Mordecai was wearing what was once a standard Light Infantry uniform, but he'd seen fit to modify it to his tastes. He'd cut the sleeves off his jacket, turning the once formal and austere looking field jacket into a sort of tunic almost. He'd taken the skirt-like protrusions off the pants and ripped the legs short, causing them to now extend no further than right below his knees. Mustang understood that it gets hot in Vyronas, but turning the military's property into whatever you felt like was beyond too far.

Beyond the uniform, Mordecai looked like a career criminal. His dark brown hair was long, dropping down over his shoulders and onto his back. He kept it braided. Moreover, Mordecai also had a full beard. Not something neat or presentable, bit something that made him look like he hadn't seen a razor for at least a decade or two. Mordecai's beard was an intense bramble of hair that ran from earlobe to earlobe along an angular jaw line and covered the man's face in such a way as that when Mordecai closed his moth, you couldn't see it. Just a solid mass of hair beginning just beneath his nose and hanging down to the top of his sternum. But the one thing Mustang hated most about Mordecai was his tattoos. Mordecai had some incredible work done over the years, and his arms were covered from fingers to his shoulders. There was more ink on his neck and Mustang had seen pictures of the work on the man's back and chest. Even the skin visible on his legs was covered in ink. Mustang hated him.

"Hey, fuckface and friends!" someone barked from Mustang's right. He turned to find himself face-to-face with possibly the most solidly built pair of soldiers the military had to offer. Both were Light Infantry. One was the soldier with the machine gun from the platform, but he didn't have the weapon on him right now. Mustang recognized him because he'd given Hawkeye a bear hug before Mordecai showed up. He was huge, but built of solid muscle and bone. He wasn't in uniform, as instead of a field jacket he had on a black sleeveless t-shirt, exposing muscular arms with sporadic, but quality tattoo work about them. He had darkly tanned skin and an honest expression on his face. Right now, he was honestly expressing severe dislike. The other soldier was less muscular, but equally big. With a light complexion, cold blue eyes, and close-cropped blonde hair. He was wearing full uniform with the cadet cap pushed back high on his head.

Mustang snarled at them. "When you address a superior officer you say 'sir,' and you mean his every ounce of respect!" he spat.

The big soldiers looked at each other, then back to Mustang. If Mustang was glaring daggers, they were glaring broadswords. Mustang's staff stepped up to defend their leader.

"Back the fuck up, why don't'cha?" Havoc spat at them. The big soldier from the platform stepped forward, getting close up into Havoc's face. The man easily weighed over 250 pounds, all muscle and had a good six inches on Havoc in height. This was a not a man to have get up into your face. "YOU WANNA GO!?" the big man roared, spreading his arms wide, daring Havoc to take a swing.

Havoc shoved the man away. "Back the fuck up!" he shouted.

The other soldier leaned his head back, "FIGHT!!" he bellowed, and Light Infantry soldiers came running, along with a sizeable share of regular infantry. The men formed a ring around Havoc and the big soldier creating a circle barely ten feet across.

Mustang found himself caught up in the ring, but didn't miss the chance to learn something. One of the regular infantry soldiers learned into him. "It's okay," the man whispered, "we're sick and tired of the Light Infantry guys! We're glad you're here!" Mustang smiled in return.

"What's goin' on here?" someone shouted, pushing his way through the ring of men and into the circle. It was Mordecai. "The fuck's up?" Hawkeye was behind him, but did not enter the ring.

The big soldier pointed at Havoc. "Little fish wants to fight me."

The Light Infantry men started laughing. Hawkeye id too, and Mustang noticed it. Mordecai's face grew into a bemused expression. "Oh, does he now?" he asked chuckling. Mordecai turned to Havoc. "You think you can beat Tank, here?" he asked.

Havoc was angry, and when he gets angry, he gets cocky. "Fuck yeah I do!" Havoc snapped. "I'll beat any of you Light Infantry shmucks!" Mordecai smiled in return.

"A'ight," said he. "This is how it goes. No weapons, okay, give your gun to someone else. Take the jacket off, too. No crotch shots, no going for the eyes. It ends when someone either gives up of looses consciousness. No leavin' the ring until that happens. Don't try to, we won't let you. Feel free to box, kick box, wrestle, grapple, or do whatever, just stay away from the groin and the eyes, got it?" Havoc nodded, tossing his jacket and his pistol into Feury's hands.

Mordecai looked back to Tank, who tossed his big Colt pistol, his K-bar knife, and his cadet cap to another Light Infantry soldier on the edge of the ring. Tank nodded to his boss.

"A'ight!" Mordecai shouted, one hand pointed at Tank, the other at Havoc. "GO!!" Mordecai quickly stepped out of the ring, not wanting to interfere.

Tank took a big step forwards, bared his teeth, and roared at Havoc, who paused in the face of such fury. Right now he really started to regret his earlier decisions.

Breda turned to Falman. "Oh, shit," they whispered in unison.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six: Feeding the Flames**

_Disclaimer: Don't own this. C'mon, seriously, I feel it should be obvious by now…_

"As far as decisions go, that was not one of your better ones," Falman said, looking down on a semi-conscious Havoc. Havoc was just waking up after being flattened by Tank in two blows. Havoc blinked. "Wh… Did I win?" he asked.

Mustang put hand in his hand, exasperated. "Yes, Havoc, you won. That's why you're unconscious and your face is swollen."

Havoc looked hopeful. "Really?"

Mustang's jaw dropped in disbelief. "Fuck no!" he shouted. "You got punched twice and hit the floor!"

Havoc looked hurt.

Mustang sighed. "C'mon," he said. "Let's get him to… somewhere. Let's find the main office, they'll tell us where our barracks are."

As Mustang and his men walked slowly across the parade ground, a pair of trained, bitter eyes followed them step by step. Lt Col Cooper N. Mordecai was watching, waiting, and learning. In Ishbal, the enemy dubbed him "the Eagle," after the distinctive tattoo on his right arm. Like his namesake, Mordecai was watching his prey.

Understand, Mordecai hated Mustang. He hated everything about that man. He hated his behavior, the way he looked, the way he lead, the way he spoke, the way he fought, and the way he thought. It was personal dislike of Roy Mustang as a man, and also professional dislike of Roy Mustang as a soldier. Mustang was a golden boy, the State Alchemist poster child. Mordecai had clawed his way up from the lowest rank in the military to the position of Battalion Commander in one of the most elite units in the military. Mustang was the scion of a wealthy family from the nicest parts of Central City. Mordecai's heritage was a long line of soldiers, farmers, lumberjacks, and woodsmen who lead hard-scrabble lives in the hills and forests of backroads Amestris. Mordecai thought Mustang was a self-righteous asshole, a piss-poor leader of men, and a selfish brat. But mixed in was a lethal dose of jealousy. Mustang had things Mordecai had longed for from day one, a respected name with the brass in Central, a high-profile career destined for success, and, most importantly, Lt Hawkeye on his personal staff.

Mordecai shook his head. Mustang was a piss-ant. No way around it. Mordecai was a humble man, too humble to even admit that, but he was honest too. He knew there were some things he was just plain good at. Fighting, drinking, wilderness survival, and leadership were his strong points. Subtlety and patience were not. Mordecai walked away from the window. _Mustang'll get his_, he thought to himself, _one of these days, he'll get his._

Mordecai walked across the room. It was a dirty, nasty, beer-stained, sweat-reeking, low-ceilinged room with cigarette burns everywhere and pool tables, card tables, and semi-destroyed sofas strewn about. It was the officer's lounge for the base, no one under the rank of Lieutenant was allowed in. Didn't matter much for the state of the room, the officers thrashed it anyway.

Mordecai strolled up to the refrigerator hidden behind removable wall panels. It was supposed to be installed in the mess hall, but they'd told Central it had been blown up in a mortar attack. Central sent a new refrigerator, which got put in the mess hall where it belonged. This one was put inside the wall and filled with beer. Mordecai hauled open the heavy door and picked himself out a pair glass bottles. Beer in hand, he strolled across the room to one of the piece of shit couches where Lt Hawkeye was already sitting, intently watching an argument between two Light Infantry officers over the proper technique involved in the throwing of a haymaker.

Mordecai dropped down heavily on the couch, which responded with a sickening groan noise. The couch was not pleased. Mordecai leaned back, increasing the couch's displeasure and put his arm around Hawkeye's shoulders. He handed her one of the beers. "Killian's?" she asked.

"It's fuckin' delicious!" Mordecai laughed. The phrase 'Killian's is fucking delicious' had become a running joke in the Light Infantry over the years. Hawkeye leaned back onto Mordecai. She smiled. She liked Cooper, liked him a lot. He was important to her in ways Mustang wasn't, a mentor, a leader, a friend, and someone she could trust. Mordecai lived his life on honesty to himself and those around him. This got him into a lot of trouble, but never did he back down. He lead by example, and he set a damn good example, too. Hawkeye felt safe when she was near him. No matter how bad things got, you could rest assured Cooper Mordecai had been through worse. Pain lost all meaning to him a long time ago, and the feeling was infectious. Mordecai was a rock, no doubt about that.

What Hawkeye did have doubts about was where she stood in relation to Cooper Mordecai. There were questions going through her mind that she wasn't entirely sure how she wanted to answer. She had buried these questions and uncertainties deep within herself and guarded them with a practiced coldness. But she could feel Mordecai melting away at the iceberg she'd built up 

within herself. It was what he did, and Hawkeye wasn't sure just how much melting she was ready for.

As if to answer her question, Mordecai pulled her closer into him, and gently kissed her on the top of her head. "I'm really glad you're back," he whispered. As he did this, Hawkeye saw, out the corner of her eye, the door open up and Col. Mustang walk in. She saw him, and he saw her and Mordecai together. Mustang's face grew some grotesque expression of outrage and his right arm flew up above his head, his fingers poised and ready to snap. He was about to initiate one of his famous alchemical reaction.

"Oh shit," Hawkeye breathed.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7: The Flames Take Hold**

_Disclaimer: You know by now…_

Sometimes, people make bad decisions…

Mustang decided he'd had enough. The transfer, the train ride, the Light Infantry, the fight, and now _this_. Mustang decided it was time he asserted himself around here. And he did so in the only way he could, with a fireball.

Mustang set off a blast right in the center of the room. A roaring blast of flame barely a meter off the floor, directly in front of Lt Col Mordecai.

This proved to be a horrendously poor choice of actions.

Mordecai was already moving before Mustang even thought of what he was going to do next. Before the Alchemist could react, Mordecai was already within swinging distance. Mustang caught a vicious haymaker in the eye. He fell over backwards and rolled to his side, coming up into a crouch and swinging his arm in a wide arc, setting off another reaction, this one much more forceful than the first. Mordecai was blown off his feet, sent sailing backwards into a wall, crashing into a half-dozen other soldiers in the process. Mordecai looked back at Mustang, slowly pulling himself back to his feet. His blood was up now, Mustang raised his hand, fingers poised, warning Mordecai not to try anything. Breda and Falman came through the door, taking up positions guarding their leader's back.

Mordecai made as if to bulrush Mustang, but juked quickly to his right as Mustang set off a blast directly in Mordecai's path. Mustang had to be careful, he needed to keep Mordecai out of arm's reach, but had to careful not to injure anyone, at least not severely…

"That's enough!" Hawkeye barked, physically imposing herself between Mustang and Mordecai. Mustang relaxed slightly, thankful for her defusing the situation. Mordecai was less than happy, roaring over Hawkeye at Mustang.

"Why'nt ya take those fuckin' gloves off, eh? Take this outside, settle this like men!" Mordecai was beyond furious.

"Lieutenant Colonel!" Hawkeye barked at Mordecai. "Control yourself!"

Mordecai shut his mouth but kept a bloodthirsty glare fixed on Mustang.

"Colonel," Hawkeye said, turning her gaze to Mustang. "I think you'd better leave."

"Not without you," Mustang replied.

Hawkeye was stunned by this. Mordecai didn't understand it either, and he let Mustang know. "The hell's that supposed to mean?" he growled, getting belligerent again.

"It means exactly what it says," Mustang replied, growing slowly more and more pissed off at Mordecai. "If you want me to leave, I will, but I'm taking Lt Hawkeye with me."

Hawkeye was one of those people who did not like being put on the spot. She preferred to operate with her own quiet efficiency, getting the job done with a minimum of attention and fanfare. But sometimes, people need to be put on the spot, need to be put under pressure. When the blacksmith makes a blade, it is tempered in the flames of the furnace. It is only when the heat is on do we find out what we truly believe.

Just then, the door swung open and none other than Dio poked his head into the building. He looked around, sensing tension. "Uhh… there's a phone call for Lt Hawkeye," he said. "I was told it's urgent and I should bring her to the administrative office as quickly as possible."

Hawkeye sighed, relieved. "Thank you, Dio," she said following him out the door. As she left she looked back over her shoulder at Mustang and Mordecai. "And don't kill each other!" she barked, in all sincerity.

Mordecai laughed. "C'mon, Hawk! This little bitch is about as threatening as a tree stump, unless someone picks him up and throws him at me there ain't no way he's gonna do any reasonable amount of damage!"

Mustang made some similar remark in reply and Mordecai laughed at him. Mordecai only got angry at Mustang when Hawkeye was there. As long as she wasn't there to fight over Mordecai just laughed at anything Mustang said.

As Hawkeye followed Dio across the parade ground she began thinking. What was the significance of Mustang's words and actions back there, and, more importantly, what was Mustang's significance to her? It used to be she simply didn't ask herself these questions, but the situation had changed. Mordecai's reappearance in her life had completely changed the dynamic 

between her and Mustang. She didn't know exactly where she stood with Mustang. He was her leader, a brave and beloved officer with a bright future ahead of him with seemingly no sky to stop his rise. She was devoted to Mustang, as was all his staff, but she followed him as more than just a loyal subordinate. She was his friend, almost his shadow, always by his side. But where was the line? Mustang was infamous for his affairs and routine one-nighters, a fact that Hawkeye hated to have to admit. She dreamed about Mustang, she dreamed about being by his side as more than just a friend and a soldier. Even this, though, was a grey area, but it became polarized when she compared Mustang to Mordecai. Mordecai was something more primal than Mustang could ever be. He was chaotic and destructive, but a man of fierce honor and loyalty. Mustang was infinitely more refined than Mordecai, with an infinitely brighter future. Hawkeye found herself in a situation she'd been in before, but this one was a hell of a lot more complicated.

When they reached the administrative office, Dio turned, leading her around the side of the building. He stopped and faced her.

"I thought I had a phone call," Hawkeye began.

"That was bullshit," Dio replied. "I just said that to get you out of there before Cooper killed somebody."

Hawkeye sighed. Dio did things like this routinely. He was good at making things better, but only in the short term. Hawkeye seriously doubted Dio could plan ahead any further than the next week. "I thank you for that, then," she said, turning as if to go.

Dio quickly put his hand on her shoulder, stopping her from leaving. "We gotta talk," he said. Apparently, Dio had matured.

"About what?" Hawkeye asked.

"About you, Mordecai, and Mustang."

"Oh, shit," Hawkeye sighed.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight: Containing the Flames**

_Disclaimer: I'll tell you in song… THE HILLS ARE ALIVE WITH THE SOUNDS OF ME NOT OWNING SHIT!!_

Hawkeye sighed. "Dio, I really don't want to talk about this…"

"Too bad." Dio replied. He was different, now, a lot more serious. "I know it shouldn't be any of my business what goes on between you three, but last time you three were in this situation people got killed. Corvin found out right after Ishbal that Mustang tried to have Mordecai killed more than once. Mustang never got his man, but he did hurt a bunch of other guys. I won't let this happen again."

Hawkeye looked away; she knew what Dio was talking about. Twice Mustang had called artillery strikes on positions he knew Mordecai was in. The first time no one got hurt, but the second time…

Dio started again. "This needs to get sorted out. It's dangerous for us all and I can tell you're messed up about it, too. We can't afford to let what happened happen again."

"Does Mordecai know?" Hawkeye asked. "Did Corvin tell him?" Corvin was Mordecai's right-hand man and best friend. They'd known each other since before they could walk.

"No," Dio said, "we made certain he didn't find out. If he did, we know he'd kill Mustang for it. When Corvin found out he almost did it himself. He tried to get on a train to Central, but, thank god, the rails had flooded the day before and didn't reopen for a week, and by then he'd cooled down. Corvin once told me he'd kill Mustang if given the chance, but I don't think he will. He's got a wife and kids and they need the money he earns. He's got too much too loose."

Hawkeye looked down at the ground. She heard footsteps and looked back up, Corvin Caine, once a 2nd Lieutenant, now a Major, had come around the far corner of the building. He was a solid, serious man with a thick red beard that hung off his face like an inverted pine tree. He was Mordecai's second-in-command and most trusted friend. He was shorter than Mordecai, but still tall, built solid and muscular. He kept his hair short and his beard long. He had a full tattoo sleeve on each arm and had earned the nickname "The Crow" for his fondness for birds, crows in particular.

"Hawk," Corvin began. "I know you hate being put on the spot like this, but it has to be done. We need to know, you need to know, what is up with you and Cooper and the alchemist?"

Hawkeye signed and looked away again, wishing she could run away from these men and their questions. "You have to realize," Corvin said next, "That this matter is going to get resolved, but it might not get resolved in the best way if we let it sit the way it is. I know what's up a lot more than you think, and I know a lot more than you think I do. I have my connections, and I've used them well. I can tell you don't want to talk about this right now, so I won't push it, at least not now., but mark my words, the more time this goes without resolution, the more dangerous it becomes." With that, Corvin turned and walked away.

Dio watched him go; then he turned to Hawkeye. "We're still your friends, Hawk. We still care. We're under a lot of pressure from Central to resolve what's going on in Vyronas as quickly and as quietly as possible. The regular infantry units on base are being very… unhelpful. They're being almost combative with us. But, I was there in Ishbal, I know what happened before. I know what went on between you and Mordecai from both sides, and I have a pretty good grasp of what's up between you and Mustang. You know you can always talk to me. You always could and you always can. Corvin was a little bit overly dramatic, but he always is. Just understand one thing; if you need help, we got your back."

Hawkeye smiled. "Thanks, Dio." He smiled back. "You'll get through this, I trust you," he said, before walking away. She watched him go. Dio was average height and slim build, with freckles and an appearance several years younger than he was, but he still wasn't that old, not even thirty yet. He was a good friend, but Hawkeye didn't want to open up to him. Not that she didn't trust him; she knew she could trust Dio for an eternity. She just didn't want to open up to anyone because to do so she'd have to open up to herself first.

Hawkeye sighed. She remembered something one of her drill instructors told here years ago, it was during a lecture on the proper application of military sharpshooters, but that didn't matter. He said "whenever you find yourself in a difficult situation, ask yourself this; 'what is the outcome I want from this situation and how can I reach it?' But be sure to know why you want that outcome. Never do anything without motivation." Hawkeye leaned back against the concrete wall of the administrative office. She closed her eyes and slipped into thought, before she could come to any conclusions, footsteps from around the corner disturbed her peace. Tank peeked his head around the edge of the building at her.

She smiled. "Hey, Tank."

The rest of Tank emerged from around the corner. "Heard about Mustang and Mordecai. I'm not surprised." Tank was a big fan of short, direct sentences. His usual expression was one of silent bemusement, but he almost always knew exactly what was going on. "I know Dio and Corvin spoke to you, but I got my own two cents to add. I've known Mordecai for years; we met back during basic training. Only Corvin's known him longer. I just want to say some things Mordecai never told you. About four months before we got deployed to Ishbal, Mordecai got a letter from home. It had a lot of bad news. You see, there was this girl. Mordecai and her, well, they were in love with each other. He had promised that he wouldn't re-enlist after the Ishbal Campaign and that he'd go home and marry her. He had already earned a small military pension and had the choice of several good jobs once he got home. But, then he got the letter…" Tank trailed off.

Hawkeye was concerned; Mordecai had never said anything about this. "What did the letter say, Tank?"

Tank was almost crying. "It was bad. You see, Mordecai had just taken me, Corvin, and a couple of the other guys home with him on leave. We met his family, his friends, and his girl. She was beautiful, and more importantly, she and Mordecai were so in love with each other… then, about two months after we got back… you see, they had us training in desert operations so it took extra long for them to get our mail to us… well, he got the letter…" Tears started rolling down Tank's face at this point. "She was dead. She and Mordecai's little brother had gone into town to run some errands, and on the way home… someone from the city… speeding… crashed into their pickup head-on. Killed them both." Tank looked up at Hawkeye. "I knew these people, and I knew how much they meant to Mordecai… worst part is… she… she was pregnant. Cooper was going to be a father. He had his whole life in front of him… everything he wanted… and it was gone. He changed after that. He became angrier, a lot more aggressive. He lost something with her… it's like his heart got ripped out…" Tank sighed.

Hawkeye looked at her old friend. "Why did you tell me this?"

Tank looked away, then back at Hawkeye. "Because when you're around… we have the old Cooper back. I can see it. Corvin will agree. After Donner died…you and him… I don't know… it's like… that letter ripped his heart out, and the bullet that killed Donner ripped yours out, too. After that, well, I watched you two. You both, well… you both had gotten your hearts ripped out, and, well… you put his back, and don't try to tell me he didn't do the same thing for you."

Hawkeye looked away. She knew Tank was right, but wasn't sure how to process all this new information. How much did this change things?

Before either of them could say another word, a new figure emerged from around the corner. It was Lt Breda.

"Hey, asshole!" Lt Breda spat, glaring at Tank. "Watched you fight my friend earlier, and I wasn't too pleased with the result. I'm here to settle the score…"

Breda advanced on Tank, cracking his knuckles.

Hawkeye put her head in her hand, exasperated, not looking forward to explaining to Mustang how two of his men both got their asses beat by the same guy on the same day. "Oh, shit," she breathed.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine: The Fire Grows**

_Disclaimer: Isn't it obvious by now?_

Mustang was sitting, head in his hands, at a table in the officer's mess hall. He had just finished berating Lt Breda and Lt Havoc for both making the same horrible decision of deciding to engage a man named 'Tank' in fistfight. Havoc's face was horribly swollen on the left side, after having caught a brutal roundhouse in the eye and a punishing jab to the jaw that floored him. Breda was in no better shape, with two black eyes, a broken nose stuffed full of cotton to keep it from bleeding, as well as a missing canine tooth and a split molar in the back.

Mustang peeked out from between his fingers at Falman and Feury. "Please tell me you aren't dumb enough to make the same mistake?"

They nodded franticly.

Mustang picked his head up and surveyed the mess. Regular infantry officers and Light Infantry officers sat in separate groups at seemingly randomly dispersed round tables. Mustang did not see Lt Col Mordecai anywhere, the tattooed warrior had entered, gotten his meal, and left. Mustang did not know where Hawkeye was either, and this made him nervous. He didn't need to be worried, though. Mordecai was over at the garage, helping Dawz and Ace with the overhaul of two captured rebel trucks. Hawkeye was sitting in the enlisted men's mess hall, busy reconnecting with friends she hadn't seen since Ishbal.

Some of the regular infantry soldiers got up from their table and sat down at Mustang's. One of them was the soldier who spoke to Mustang earlier, right before Havoc got his ass kicked. "Hell, sir," he said.

Mustang found the display of respect refreshing. "Hello," he said looking at the man's rank, "Major…"

"York," the man said, "Stephan York."

Mustang shook the man's hand. "I remember you from earlier."

"Thanks," York replied, "well, I meant what I said then. We're tired of these Light Infantry guys. We're tired of being treated as a second class unit, and we're damn tired of Lt Col Mordecai." York was keeping his voice hushed, but Mustang smiled anyway.

"As you can imagine," York went on, "the Light Infantry is not the best unit to be garrisoned with. They have no discipline, no order, and they are incapable of behaving themselves. They fight with each other and with us. They are drink frequently. They push us around. The base is about half regular infantry, half Light Infantry, but they act like it's all theirs. We're glad you're here, because now we have a leader. Before Lt Col Mordecai was the ranking officer on base, but now you are. We're happy you're here because you can put the Light Infantry back in their place."

Mustang's smile grew into a malicious grin. "You may be unaware, but I have had past experiences with Mordecai and the Light Infantry. I would be happy to help put him and the rabble he calls a unit back into their collective place."

York and his men and Mustang and his huddled closer together, discussing how great it would be to retake control of the base. As they did, three men rose from one of the Light Infantry tables and made their way out the door. One was Major Corvin Caine, Commander of the First Company, Seventh Light Infantry Combat Battalion. The other two men were 1st Lt Terry "Jimmy" Jankow and 2nd Lt Charlie "Beef" Saka, Commanders of Corvin's 3rd and 1st Platoons, respectively.

As they walked out the door, Jankow looked over his shoulder at York and Mustang and their hushed conversation. He didn't like that. He didn't like Mustang or York and together the whole of his dislike became greater than the sum of its parts.

The three men strolled calmly across the parade ground towards the garage where Mordecai was. The garage was a large, tall, wide steel building with big doors on either end for vehicles. The floor was poured cement and the walls were lined with offices and storage space made from unfinished wood and chain link fencing. It was a rough, functional building.

Mordecai, Ace, and Dawz were seated on the dilapidated couches and chairs in the garage's main office. Dawz was smoking. "Hey," Mordecai said as Corvin and his men walked in.

"We haven't done an interdiction sweep in over a week," Corvin said. "I think it's high time we see if we can't rustle ourselves up a firefight."

"Eh, why not?" Mordecai replied. He turned to Dawz and Ace, "Get two of the light trucks ready to go, load 'em up with gas and ammo, 'kay?" Dawz and Ace nodded and scrambled into action.

"I want two teams of five, one for each jeep," Mordecai said next, "Beef, get your three best men, I want submachine guns, pistols, grenades, and knives for each, okay?" 2nd Lt Saka nodded and sprinted off. He was a solid, muscular man with red/brown hair and an amicable yet aggressive persona.

"For the fire support team -they'll be in the second jeep, I want an MG team and a sniper team and a squad leader. Jankow, you'll be leading this team, I want Dio as backup on the MG, put whoever you want on it, but for the sniper, I want Hawk and Hutch, mm'kay?"

Jankow smiled and ran off; he hadn't seen Hawkeye since Ishbal and was glad to be working with her again. He was average height and build with bushy black sideburns and a sizeable tangle of black hair across the dome of his head. He was dramatic, a born actor, and instantly likeable.

Mordecai turned to Corvin next. "Hold down this base while I'm gone. Watch out for Mustang, I'm worried he's gonna do something stupid."

"Jankow said he saw Mustang talking to York at dinner," Corvin replied.

Mordecai swore in response at the thought of those two men collaborating. "Oh, shit…"


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten: Distraction**

_Disclaimer: Nope. Still nuthin'._

The two jeeps rumbled through the dusty streets of the city of Vyronas, kicking up dust as they did so. Mordecai reckoned they had about two, maybe two-and-a-half hours of daylight left in the day.

Mordecai was seated shotgun in the lead jeep, armed, interestingly enough, with a pump-action twelve gauge shotgun loaded with 00 buckshot and a tight, accurate choke. Lt. Saka, better known as Beef, was driving. Three of Beef's best soldiers rode in back, peeking out over the camouflaged screens. The second jeep was a good twenty yards back. Lt Jankow was driving that one, with Dio riding shotgun, a light machine gun set up on the hood. Hawk, Hutch, and a third soldier were in back.

The radio in Mordecai's jeep crackled to life. "Mordecai!" a voice barked, "what the hell do you think you're doing!?"

Mordecai reached over and picked up the receiver, "My job. That's what I'm doin'. Who's this?"

The voice sputtered in indignation. "You know damn well who it is! It's me!"

Mordecai smiled. "Well of course it's _you_, but who the fuck _are_ you?"

The voice sputtered some more, much more violently this time. "It's Mustang, dumbass! Who else would it be!?"

Mordecai was getting amused. "I dunno," he said in reply.

Mustang got a thousand times more pissed off at that remark. "I don't care what you know! Who the fuck gave you permission to leave the base!?"

"I did. I'm in charge of the anti-insurgency operations here. You have no experience in such matters; meanwhile, I have made a fucking career out of it."

Mustang only got madder. "That's not the point! Where do you come off with taking Lt Hawkeye off the base!? She's assigned to my personal staff! I want you to return her to base this instant!"

Mordecai chuckled. "Oh, don't be a you. We both know she's the best sniper either of us has ever seen and we both know she can more than take care of herself and we both know there's no way in hell I'll ever let anything bad happen to her. I appreciate the show of _concern_, but we got us a job to do, now shut up and let us do it."

Mordecai slammed the receiver back down before Mustang could respond and swung the radio to a different frequency, the emergency frequency, hoping to find some action. He wasn't disappointed.

"Anyone out there? We got a disturbance in Market Square," the radio crackled.

Mordecai quickly seized the receiver. "Yeah, we're out here. We're on Vyronas T-pike at about 43rd Street; we're five blocks from Market Square. Got any more intel?"

The voice replied "A bit. Local police called it in just now. Say locals are involved in an altercation with military personnel and are worried of a riot brewing. However, no units have reported a position anywhere _near_ Market Square except you. We don't have a presence in the area, so keep your heads up when you go in."

"Thanks for that, we'll be there right quick," Mordecai answered. "Gun it, Beef."

Beef drove the accelerator down and the jeep sprang to life, the second jeep kicked it into a higher gear to keep pace. It was a quick ride to Market Square, the busy, bustling bazaar that was the social and economic epicenter of the city. It was a large open square, filled with shops and stalls and everything else. It was lined with storefronts and all other sorts of businesses. Mordecai could see some sort of disturbance was underway about fifty yards deep into the square.

Beef steered the jeep directly into the assembled crowd, slowing down greatly and leaning on the horn as he did so. The crowds parted, allowing the jeeps to cruise through. When the crowd had opened enough for them to reach the scene of the altercation, what they found was something completely new to the soldiers.

They found a decidedly comical pair engaged in some strange sort of altercation with a Vyronian shopkeeper. Mordecai, usually a decisive man of action took a moment to take the absurdity of it all in.

What appeared to be an eight foot suit of archaic battle armor and some sort of short teenager in a red cloak were engaged in a fierce screaming match with a Vyronian storekeeper and his staff and family.

Mordecai dismounted the jeep and walked towards the fight. "Stay on guard," he said to Beef as he walked away. Beef nodded and relayed the message to the second jeep. The soldiers readied their weapons and began watching the crowd and their surroundings for any sign of an ambush.

Mordecai placed himself firmly between the storekeeper and the short guy, shotgun slung at his side. He began roaring for them to be quiet, drowning them out by pure volume. Once both parties had quieted down, Mordecai set about something that quite simply was not one of his strongpoints. Mordecai was about to try some conflict resolution.

"A'ight," said he, "what's goin' on here?"

This lead to another outburst of shouting from both the opposing parties, each assuming it had the right to speak first. Mordecai was forced to shut them up again.

"Just be quiet!" he roared. "No more shouting, damnit!"

The kid in red kept shouting anyway. Mordecai seized him by his neck and lifted him off his feet. "When I say 'quiet' you had damn well better get quiet for I shut you up myself!" Mordecai roared into the kid's face. Shocked, the kid shut up. Mordecai did not put him down.

"Now," Mordecai said, turning to the storekeeper. "What seems to be the problem?"

"Dis wone 'ere iz de prob'lem!" the storekeeper barked in the thick local dialect, indicating the kid Mordecai was still holding off the ground. "Dis dog ov de mili'taree, 'e iz a thief! 'E iz a li'ar! 'E iz a cheat! 'E steal frohm my shop, when I cetch 'im, 'e lie to me! 'E say 'e iz no' a thief, but I find my goodz in 'is pocketz! 'E clap 'iz hanz an' boom! goes my shop! Smoke ev'rywere! 'E break de windowz out, 'e run, but no' fast enough! I catch 'im, now 'e lie more! Police call youz an' you come! You come to de res'cue of dis, dis dog ov de mili'taree! 'E iz one of youz, so you come to save 'im, but no' my shop! Windowz blown out, goodz stole' an' my store iz a mess! Whot am I to do? Youz mili'taree do whot'ever youz feel like, an' we, we payz de price!"

Mordecai held up his free hand at that point, quieting the man. "Hold it," he said, surprised. "Do you mean to tell me this little guy is in the military?"

At this question, the 'little guy' became extremely agitated. He began failing and ranting and screaming. Apparently when Mordecai said 'little' the little guy had heard something closer to 'so small an ant would need a microscope to see.' Mordecai was unamused. "Would you shut the fuck up?" he roared. "You're not helping!"

The suit of armor decided to step in at that moment. "Excuse me, sir, I, uh, well, you see…" it said in a child's voice, echoing softly around inside the armor. Strange voice for such a big thing.

"Spit it out!" Mordecai barked.

The armor became very nervous at this point and began sputtering. The 'little guy' decided to take charge. "If you would put me down, Lt Col, I'll explain everything," he said, angrily but evenly. Mordecai nodded and set him down slowly.

Back on the ground the little guy glared fiercely at Mordecai before breaking into an explanation. "I _am_ a member of the State Military. I am a State Alchemist. What this man is accusing me of is not true. I stole nothing. The item he is accusing me of stealing, this map of the city in my pocket, was purchased at another stall. He refused to believe me and I decided I had to get away before he did anything drastic. I used an alchemical reaction to create a small explosion in the store which, accidentally I might add, blew out all the windows. When I tried to run away, he chased me and caught me by my hair. We've been arguing for several minutes before you showed up."

The storekeeper immediately began yelling again and so did the alchemist. Before Mordecai could quiet them down again Beef shouted to his commander, pointing towards the roof of one of the storekeeper's shop. "Boss! Look out!"

Mordecai wheeled around. There was a man atop the building, and he was throwing something, Mordecai could see it was a grenade.

Mordecai swung up the shotgun and put a blast squarely into the man's chest, but not before the grenade was in the air. It was one of the small golf ball sized grenades made locally in illegal, underground weapons shops. The insurgents loved them because they made lots of noise and smoke and were easy to hide, but only had a small effective blast radius so it was easy to use them around civilians. The alchemist, unsure of what was going on instinctively caught the grenade in his right hand.

Mordecai looked over at him as the crowd scattered. "Oh, shit…' the soldier breathed.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven: Survival**

_Disclaimer: I don't own this. No, seriously, I do not own this._

The grenade blew. Then two more grenades went off to Mordecai's right. He instinctively dove to the ground as the soldiers back at the jeeps began firing madly.

Beef was shouting. "Keep it steady! Keep it steady! Don't hit civilians! Only shoot what you can see! Don't shoot the fucking civilians!" Beef knew if they started hitting civilians, that a riot would kick off instantly. Ten soldiers against a city are pretty poor odds.

Mordecai came up to a half-crouch and scrambled over to the kid. The suit of armor was standing over his companion.

"Move! Mordecai shouted, pushing the thing out of his way, trying to get to the kid. The kid was grasping at his wrist. His hand was gone. Mordecai, thoughts wired and focused by adrenaline and experience, did not notice there was no blood. He did, in passing however, notice the smell of burnt metal.

"Hey, tin can!' Mordecai shouted at the armored giant next to him. "Get him to the jeeps!" The armor scooped up the kid in his arms and sprinted towards Jankow's vehicle. Mordecai noticed bullets sparking as they bounced off the armor. Bullets. They were taking fire.

Mordecai took off towards the jeeps, firing his shotgun at random. If he didn't see a target, he'd shoot at something else, so long as it wasn't people. He knew if they could keep up a good spray of counter-fire most of the Vyronans would keep out of sight. The sound of gunfire alone would drive the civilians away; the threat of bullets would keep many gunmen down.

Mordecai's shotgun was empty after seven shots. He turned and sprinted to Beef's jeep, leaping over the hood and throwing himself into the seat. "Gun it!" he roared, reloading. The jeeps clicked into reverse and their drivers floored the accelerator, trying to get back to the Vyronas Turnpike a mere fifty to one hundred yards away. Before they got halfway, a truck popped out from an alleyway, jerking to a stop directly in their path. Lt Jankow tried to swerve around, but 

there was nowhere to swerve to. He jeep crashed rear-end first into a stall selling boxes, crates, and barrels.

Beef slammed on the brakes. Mordecai and another soldier, a sergeant from Beef's platoon named Zarcias (everyone called him "Z"), jumped out of the jeep. Beef and the other two began firing down towards the insurgents taking potshots at them from deeper in the market. It was not easy. The enemy had a lot of cover and was scrambling around without pattern or organization. Moreover, most were wearing plain civilian clothes, making target acquisition extremely difficult.

Mordecai and Z jumped into the wreckage of the stall. Jankow and the others kicked their way out from under the debris.

"Fuck, the jeep's toast!" Z yelled, followed by a quick list of everything he could see was broken, "Back's all smashed up, one of the wheels got torn off, and I think the rear axle snapped!" Indeed it had. The stall was made of wood but backed up against a cement and stone wall, which the jeep had plowed into, crumpling and buckling.

"Z! Move the truck!" Mordecai barked, crouching down in the rubble, returning fire. Jankow was next to him, applying gauze to a gash across the face of one of his men. Jankow himself was bleeding from a cut on his forehead. The rest of Jankow's soldiers scrambled into positions. The armor and the kid crouched behind the ruined stall and jeep, taking cover.

"Hawk, Hutch!" Mordecai roared next, not looking to see if they were listening, he knew they would. "Watch for snipers! Watch the roofs! Dio! Get you MG set up, lay down a skirmish spray!" Mordecai didn't have to check, he knew they would do their jobs.

Z sprinted to the truck, a large, blue, six-wheeled affair, and jumped up to the door. It was locked. He fired a blast from his submachine gun into the locking mechanism and pulled the door open. The driver was gone. So were the keys. "Shit!"

Z jumped back down from the cab, firing his weapon as he did so. "Boss! No keys!" he shouted.

Just then, a Molotov cocktail came sailing through the air towards Beef's jeep. "FUCK!" Beef yelled as he and the two men in the jeep dove away from their vehicle. The cocktail landed on the hood, covering the jeep in writhing flame.

"Jankow!" Mordecai turned to his friend and subordinate officer. "Get the radio out of your jeep! We're on foot!" Jankow nodded and hurriedly complied. Radio slung at his side, the Lt looked back at his leader. "Where to?" he asked.

"On me!" Mordecai barked, rising from cover. He turned and jumped over the wall behind the stall. It was about eight feet tall. "Clear!" he shouted back from the other side.

"Get over! Armored guy! Gimme a hand!" Beef jumped up on to the wall, sitting atop it. "Boost 'em up to me!" he shouted. The suit complied without complaint. Bullets ricocheted off him harmlessly. He didn't fear the gunfire.

One by one the soldiers came over the wall, boosted by the armored man, pulled up by Beef, and dropped into the arms of whoever else was on the other side. Hawkeye was among the last to come over. Mordecai caught her in his arms. "You okay?" he asked. Hawkeye saw something she hadn't seen in a long time. Concern for her in someone else's eyes. "Just fine," she said, rattled more by his question than by the bullets, "I'm fine."

Mordecai smiled a little at that. "Good," he breathed before turning to help catch the injured kid as Beef lowered him down to the waiting soldiers. Last, the suit of armor came clambering over the wall. Such a large object was never intended to do such things and it came tumbling over, taking Beef down with it. It fell to the floor and rolled over, hands firmly clasped on its helmet.

"Alphonse!" Two people shouted in unison. Those people were both the kid and Lt Hawkeye. Mordecai turned to Hawkeye. "You know them?" he asked. The kid turned to Hawkeye as well, "Lt Hawkeye?" he asked. The suit of armor hurriedly scrambled to his feet. "Lt Hawkeye!" it yelled in its echoing child's voice. "What the fuck's goin' on here?" Beef yelled, to no one in particular.

"Dudes!" Z came in from the left, shouting. "Dio found a pickup truck! We gotta go! There's keys in it! C'mon!"

Mordecai knew survival was more important that questioning this strange pair and finding out just how they knew Lt Hawkeye. "Let's go!" he roared.

They scrambled through an open door way, crashing through the kitchen of a house. They all sprinted by the little girl hiding in the corner. She was no threat to them, but they terrified her.

Mordecai found exactly what was promised; a rusty, hard-worn pickup. Jankow was already in the driver's seat, with Beef seated shotgun. Dio had his MG set up on the roof of the cab. "Get in!" he was yelling. The soldiers pulled each other up into the bed of the truck. Most of them pretended not to notice the dead man in the road, fresh bullet wounds in his chest. Mordecai, however, knew that trucks don't just sit idle in the middle of the street. He looked at Dio and nodded towards the body. Dio pointed to the revolver in the man's hand. "Pulled the gun outta the glove compartment." Dio said. Mordecai noticed Dio did not say who had pulled the gun out of the glove compartment, but decided not to ask.

Jankow slammed the accelerator to the floor and the truck lurched forward, kicking up dust behind it. The soldiers ducked down low, trading sporadic fire with a few insurgents further down the road. Quickly, however, the truck was out of range and the insurgents stop firing. They did not give chase.

Mordecai slumped down next to Hawkeye, pulling a pack of cigarettes and a lighter out of his pocket. "Not good," he said, "Ace'll be pissed we lost two of his jeeps."

"Yeah."

"So," Mordecai said next, putting one of the cigarettes to his mouth and lighting the end, "how do you know these clowns?"

Hawkeye introduced the pair as Edward and Alphonse Elric. Mordecai greeted them with surprising civility. Then Hawkeye mention both of them were alchemists.

Mordecai was not pleased. "Whoa, hold on! _More_ alchemists?"

Hawkeye nodded. "Oh, shit," Mordecai said as the truck bounced and rumbled hurriedly down the poorly paved highway.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter Twelve: Focus Back to the Flames**

_Disclaimer: I do not own tits._

The commandeered pickup rattled and thundered over the road and back to the base. No one spoke. Mordecai kept a close watch on the diminutive alchemist out the corner of his eye. He didn't like alchemists. One was bad enough, and he had no wish to deal with two of them. This one looked like trouble. He was an independent alchemist, not attached to any specific unit. Those were the worst kind, in Mordecai's opinion. Without a unit, they were unbound and footloose. They weren't grounded in reality. They chased ghosts and legends. They were trouble. Mordecai stiffened his glare. He didn't like the looks of these two in the slightest.

The truck rolled through the series of checkpoints one had to go through to reach the base. As the pickup ground to a halt in the center of the parade field, soldiers came out of the woodwork. Medical staff and volunteers hastily carried off anyone with even the slightest wound. Dawz and Ace came out of nowhere and began screaming about their jeeps. Dio and Beef argued back and the four of them wandered off towards the garage, screaming at each other as they did so.

Mustang came striding across the parade ground, one hand in his pocket, coat flowing out behind him. "So, Lt Col," he said, "guess you ran into some trouble there, didn't-… Fullmetal!?"

The little alchemist looked at Mustang in surprise. "Mustang!?"

They glared at each other.

"The fuck's goin' on here?" Mordecai asked, turning to Hawkeye, hoping she might make some sense out of it. Mordecai was a fighter, not a critical thinker.

"I'll explain, Lt Col," Mustang interjected. "These are the Elric brothers, Alphonse and Edward. Edward is a State Alchemist. I am familiar with the two of them." Mustang looked from Mordecai to the Elrics and back to the soldier. "I would like you to debrief them, Lt Col. Find out what they are doing here and what they hope to accomplish in the area."

Mordecai glared back. "Why don't you debrief them? You're the alchemist, ain't ya?"

Mustang closed his eyes as he spoke. It was a very smug thing to do, but Mustang had earned the privilege. He'd had enough Cooper Mordecai for one lifetime, and there was no way the tattooed disaster of a soldier could kick his way out of this one. "I know these two boys far too well to conduct a reasonable debriefing. I would prefer if you did it, besides, you have an uncanny knack 

for getting the truth out of people." Mustang knew that last bit would seal the deal; Mordecai had earned a reputation as a gifted interrogator back in Ishbal, even though he wasn't a very prideful man, a little nudging could go a long way if properly applied. Mordecai smiled a little at Mustang's remark, "A'ight, I'll find out what these two are up to," he said.

As Mordecai led the pair off towards the administrative office, Mustang turned to Hawkeye. "Lt, come with me," he said. He led her into the nearest building, a storage facility, and closed the door behind them. It was a solid pine building, and the room they were in was a solid, pine room with a small, slim writing desk in the corner and a number of generic military crates lying around.

"Yes, Colonel?" Hawkeye asked.

Mustang turned, a look of genuine concern mixed with anger across his face. "What the fuck happened out there!?" he roared. "What the fuck was Mordecai thinking? Getting into a firefight like that? I- I- I- Argh!!"

Hawkeye was momentarily taken aback by the sudden display of emotion but swiftly regained her composure. "What happened, Colonel, is that we were ambushed. The Elric brothers were involved in an altercation with the locals and we stepped in. That's when we were ambushed, sir. Lt Col Mordecai did not go hunting a firefight. It came to him."

Mustang sighed. "I know; the man's a lightning rod for combat." Hawkeye nodded, she knew that last part was true. "It's just-"Mustang sighed again, "it's just that… well… I don't like…" Mustang took a deep breath and drew his shoulders back. "I don't want you putting yourself, or getting put into, danger like that. I- I don't like it when shit like this happens because I'm not there to protect you. I'm terrified something might happen if I'm not there…" His voice trailed off and he looked away.

Hawkeye stepped forward towards Mustang. "Colonel, what are you talking about? You know I can take care of myself." She was very surprised my Mustang's statements. Most of her time was spent taking care of him, very rarely was it the other way around.

"But not completely, no one can. We all need to watch each other's backs and I just won't trust anyone else to watch yours. I just can't…"

"Roy, what are you talking about? What are you trying to say?"

"Riza, I… I want to say-"

Just then, a thunderous explosion shook the building. The small window high up on the wall shattered and the room's solitary bare lightbulb flickered off then back on. More explosions followed in rapid succession; one of them arrestingly close as it blew away the door to the room and knocked both Hawkeye and Mustang to the floor. Soldiers were running, shouting, screaming. There was smoke and dust. Mordecai's voice cut through the chaos as it had done countless times before.

"Mortars!" he was screaming. "Get the fuck out of the open! Get into cover! Get the artillery and return fire! Get out mortars and return fire! Their firing on us from the wadi! They're in down by the wadi!"

A wadi is a ravine, carved by seasonal rains, that floods whenever there is a big rainstorm. The word wadi was only used by people in the eastern deserts. It was a phrase Mordecai had taken with him from Ishbal.

Mordecai came in through the destroyed doorway. He had his shotgun slung by his side and his Browning Automatic Rifle in his hands. Corvin Caine and Beef were right behind him, along with three other troopers, only one of whom Hawkeye recognized. Mordecai slid into the room like a baseball player, coming to stop by Hawkeye's side. "Thank God you're alright," he said. "We got mortars and light artillery fire comin' in from the southeast; we gotta shut it down fast!"

"What's going on!?" Mustang screamed, pulling himself into a crouch.

Mordecai turned to face the alchemist. "Light artillery attack, but don't worry, sir, I got a plan!"

Mustang looked back at Mordecai. "You got a plan?" he said.

"Yep."

"Oh, shit…"


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter Thirteen: Sparks on the Wind**

_Disclaimer: There's no room for a Disclaimer! This Chapter's a long one!_

Mordecai's plan was simple. Mustang and Beef would organize the forces on the base; the artillery fire, the medical operations, the counterattack, and anything else that need to be done, while Mordecai took Corvin, Hawkeye, and the other three soldiers into the enemy positions to clear away as many mortars as possible as soon as possible. Mordecai did not give anyone time to vocalize any misgivings on the plan before he ran out the door, his men and Hawkeye right behind him. Hawkeye cast one backwards glance at Mustang before she left.

Alone in the room, Beef and Mustang glared at each other. Beef though Mustang was an arrogant prick and Mustang thought Beef was a violent jackass. Now, however, wasn't the time for such pleasantries. "I'll organize my Platoon for the counterattack." Beef said. "I'll rally up a base defense and get the artillery firing," Mustang replied. Both men nodded and dashed off to do their jobs, each happier without the other's company.

Meanwhile, Mordecai and the five with him were hurriedly scrambling across the rugged Vyronian terrain. The land was a dry, jagged scrubland. Small, but tenacious conifers and gnarled scrub was scattered about the landscape. The earth was dry, packed, dusty soil, burned by sun and blown by wind and occasionally washed away by the violent rainstorms that haphazardly swooped in from nowhere. Visibility was low, because the ground was a constant series of sharp, shallow ravines and small rocky outcrops. The hostile mortars were set up throughout these little nooks in the earth. They were not all the way in the wadi, as Mordecai initially suspected, but were deployed roughly a hundred yards past it in direction of the base. At one point, Mordecai slid into cover behind a battered-looking tree.

"A'ight," he said, as his squad formed up around him. "We gotta move by teams, one assault team to get down in there, one support team to provide covering fire. There are six mortars, two right up about twenty yards ahead of us. Two more about thirty or forty from the first two, set back a little ways. The last two are further back, but I can hear 'em firing right good, so they can't be more than a hundred yards away from us right now." Everyone nodded. Mordecai had garnered all this information simply by listening to the sounds of the mortars firing. It was something that no one could teach. It was one of those almost super-human tricks men like Mordecai picked up. They had to learn things like this. If they didn't, it was a good way to wind up dead.

"I'll take point," Mordecai continued, "Corvin and Floyd will get my back. Hawk, you'll be in charge of the other team. Keep us covered. I'm giving you Steuben and Oli. A'ight?" The soldiers nodded. "Good," Mordecai said, "let's go!"

Mordecai leapt out from cover, BAR in hand. Corvin and Floyd followed; submachineguns at the ready. Hawkeye did not recognize Floyd, but he looked like a good man. Close-cropped black hair, clean-shaven, wire-rimmed glasses and a slim, tall build didn't make him look like a soldier, but the full tattoo sleeve on his left arm helped correct that. Floyd was in full uniform from the waist down, but was only wearing a black t-shirt and his cadet cap.

As the three men sprinted across the twenty or so yards of open space between them and the wash-out the mortars were hidden down in, Hawkeye took a quick glance at the two men Mordecai had left with her with. She already knew Steuben. He was a big, solid man. Weighing in at about a deuce-and-a-half at six foot four, Steuben was a formidable fellow. He was of a quiet intensity. He usually kept his mouth entombed behind a thick, bushy ruddy-brown beard. He carried a Maxim-pattern medium machinegun and had it set up already, covering the assault team's right flank. Hawkeye liked Steuben. He was dependable.

The other man was new to Hawkeye. Mordecai had called him 'Oli.' Hawkeye did not know if that was nickname or not. Visibly, he was young, too young to have served in Ishbal. His uniform was surprisingly clean and his personal appearance generally neat. But Hawkeye could tell he was soldier. His expression was supremely focused. He had his weapon, a standard-issue autoloading rifle, rested across a fallen log, watching the assault team's right flank. He also had half of Steuben's extra ammo with him.

Hawkeye shifted her rifle and looked through the scope. She did so just in time to watch Mordecai spring up from a crouch and leap over the rim of the wash-out the mortars were down in. She heard his BAR rattling as he disappeared from view. Corvin and Floyd followed. After a second, the three of them popped up from the other side of the wash-out. Corvin waved back, calling Hawkeye's team forward. They jumped out of their positions and took off, following their comrades towards the second pair of mortars.

As Hawkeye sprinted past the first wash-out, she cast a sidelong glance at the carnage within. Four Vyronian insurgents lay dead in the dirt. There were two light mortars down there with them, the light, man-portable variety. Hawkeye noticed the insurgents were all wearing khaki-colored clothing.

Mordecai was up ahead, reloaded BAR up and ready. He knew the other mortar crews had heard the gunfire, so he decided stealth was out the window. As he neared the second position, a small sinkhole about eight feet deep and as many across, an insurgent popped up from the hole, rifle in hand.

Mordecai was already within arm's reach of the man, who recoiled at the sight of the soldier. He didn't expect them to get that close that fast. Mordecai swung the butt end of the BAR forward, clocking the rebel in the jaw. The man dropped over backwards from the blow. As Mordecai kept running, Corvin fired a quick burst from his gun into the rebel's torso as he sprawled on the ground. The man convulsed once at the impact of the rounds, then lay still, dead eyes dumbly gazing skyward.

Mordecai, Corvin, and Floyd cleared out the mortars the same way as before; with point-blank range blasts dead center into their targets. By this point, the third position had figured out they were under attack. They stopped firing their mortars and picked up their rifles. Their position was a wide, yard-deep depression in the ground, shielded on the side by a fallen tree. As they began snapping off shots with their rifles, Mordecai quickly laid down new plan. This was what he excelled in. There was nothing complicated. Just him and his crew against the enemy. He had to figure out the best way to kill the other guys without getting any of his soldiers killed in the process. Sometimes, things didn't quite work out perfectly, but Mordecai had a knack for keeping those 'sometimes' to a bare minimum.

"Steuben, Oli, and Floyd; lay down a base of fire. Get them suppressed. Hawk, you watch the right, make sure nobody's coming to help them. Me an' Corvin will hook 'round the left flank."

Everyone nodded. Steuben rolled into position, and the Maxim began hammering away. Oli and Floyd poured it on, too. The idea behind this was to keep the enemies' heads down so Mordecai and Corvin could get up close on them. Hawkeye's job was making sure nobody came running up from the wadi to back up the mortar crews.

When Mordecai and Corvin had closed the distance, the suppression fire stopped. Three of the rebels popped up to return fire. They did not know Mordecai and Corvin were already right on their flank. As they popped up, they were instantly cut down by fully-automatic blasts from the two Light Infantry Troopers.

As the rebels were sent sprawling backwards from the bullets slamming into their chests, the fourth rebel, a boy barely even sixteen, threw his rifle away took off towards the wadi, about fifty yards away. Mordecai stumbled over the dead as he made to pursue, giving the runner a small head start. Corvin turned the other way, firing two quick shots into the aiming mechanisms of the enemy mortars, ensuring the weapons would be useless in the future.

As Mordecai chased after the boy, he struggled to reload his BAR. The BAR weighs twenty pounds unloaded, and the magazine are each another full pound. Mordecai slammed home a new clip, closing in on the runner. Mordecai wanted to take him alive. He was surprised the enemy 

was bold enough to put mortars this close to the base and wanted to find out which ad hoc rebel group or self-proclaimed revolutionary front was behind this little escapade.

As Mordecai closed in, he reached out, snagging the boy by the collar of his shirt. The boy tripped and went down. Mordecai hopped gingerly over him, then turned, BAR leveled at the rebel. The boy, breathing heavily, looked up at Mordecai. His hair was in his face and sweat was dripping off his brow. The other five soldiers came running up behind him.

"Just give it up, kid," Mordecai said, "you're outnumbered, you're outgunned, and you don't got no weapon."

The boy pulled himself to his feet and quickly drew a small knife from his belt.

Mordecai shot the kid a look, half-bemused, half-agitated. "What the fuck, kid? What're you gonna do with that?" The kid was trapped, surrounded by six heavily armed soldiers, all staying tactfully out of stabbing distance, but close enough to keep the boy constantly spinning and turning around and around.

Mordecai was in no mood for this bullshit. "Kid, put the fucking knife down before we knock you out. You're not getting out of this. Just save yourself the pain and put down the knife."

The boy stopped his constant defensive spins and maneuvers. He glared at Mordecai, pure hate seeping out of his eyes with bitter tears.

Hawkeye spoke next, thinking a second voice might tip the scales enough to make the kid see reason. "Kid, we're not going to hurt you unless you make us. Just put the knife down and give up and we won't hurt you." Her voice made the boy's glare shift from Mordecai to her. She'd seen this look a thousand times before; the blind hatred and aggression. She wasn't moved at all by it anymore.

Mordecai nodded in response to her statement. "She's right, kid. The only way you'll get hurt is if you make us hurt you. Just give it up."

The boy glared back at Mordecai. "You an' your _bitch_ can go to hell!" he spat out, before bringing the knife up and opening his own neck, severing both the jugular vein and the carotid artery on the left side of his neck. He dropped to the ground, clutching the wound, gurgling and spewing blood. The soldiers all took a half-step back. The very idea of such an action bore an 

impact of its own. Watching it happen in front of their eyes hit them in a way none of them could ever have anticipated.

As the boy thrashed on his back, Mordecai smoothly, quickly drew his Colt .45 caliber pistol. He fired one shot, right into the boy's head. It would have taken two minutes for the boy to bleed out, but the bullet ended it all in a heartbeat.

As the soldiers looked down at the corpse, still that of a child, Mordecai drew and lit another cigarette. He drew deeply on it once, then slowly exhaled the smoke, contemplating what just happened.

"Oh, shit," the soldier whispered.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter Fourteen: Slipping Out of Control**

_Disclaimer: I own not._

As Mordecai, Hawkeye, and the other four soldiers stood around the body, Beef and his platoon came running towards them across the terrain. Mordecai looked up and was surprised to see a half dozen blue uniforms running along with the eighty or so green uniformed troopers. As they got closer, Mordecai was able to identify the blue soldiers as Mustang, Mustang's five friends, (the only one whose name he knew was Havoc) and Major York.

When they got close, Beef began yelling orders. His platoon fanned out and began clearing the area. Mustang slowed from a run into a jog, then slowed to a stroll. He walked up towards Mordecai stopping when he noticed the body of the teenaged rebel.

"We cleared out the mortars." Mordecai said. Beef jogged up. "Area's clear boss," he said to Mordecai.

"Good." Mustang and Mordecai said in unison. They glared at each other. Mordecai turned back to Beef. "A'ight, tell your men to gather up the bodies, as well as any weapons and ammo and bring it back to the base." Beef nodded and ran off, barking orders and pointing.

Mordecai walked off, back towards the base. Mustang made as if to try to stop him, but thought better of it. As Mordecai walked off, Corvin, Floyd, Steuben, and Oli followed. Hawkeye looked to Mustang, but saw he was talking to Major York. She turned and jogged off after Mordecai's group.

Back at the base, Mordecai walked up to the administrative building. He stepped up the seven stairs to the porch and opened the door. He turned. "Corvin, help Beef with documenting everything he's bringing in, okay?" Corvin nodded and walked off. "Hawk," he said next, "come with me." Hawkeye followed him up the stairs and into the building.

The administrative building was a square, concrete affair. Designed to be able to take direct artillery hit, it sacrificed comfort for durability. Mordecai had seen it survive direct hits from rebel light artillery, so he wasn't complaining. Mordecai walked through the first room and unlocked a door on the far wall. He and Hawkeye walked through.

It was a storage room, full of file cabinets and boxes of paper. There was a circle of four chairs in the center of the room. Two of the chairs were occupied by the suit of armor and the alchemist from earlier.

"Lt Hawkeye!" the armor shouted, rising to his feet.

"Hello, Alphonse," Hawkeye said. Mordecai gestured for the suit to sit back down. He did, and Mordecai and Hawkeye took the other two chairs for themselves.

"So…" Mordecai began, "Mustang wants me to interrogate you. I brought Lt Hawkeye because she seems to be familiar with you two." Hawkeye and the two alchemists nodded. "Good," Mordecai said, "that means if you try to bullshit me, Hawkeye's probably gonna notice. And if you bullshit me, I'll knock your ass out. Understand?"

The alchemist nodded again.

"A'ight, let's keep this quick. You are the brothers… 'Arlic?'"

"No, _Elric_." The short one said, looking agitated. "I'm Edward, and this is Alphonse."

Mordecai nodded. "A'ight," he said. "So, brothers _Elric_, why are you here? I mean, what in God's name would bring you to Vyronas?"

The brothers looked at each other. The short one, 'Edward,' turned back to Mordecai. "We're looking for the Philosopher's Stone." He went on for a couple of minutes about the Stone and their long search for it. Mordecai wasn't interested.

After a while, Mordecai interrupted the boy's discourse. "Hey, by the way, how's your hand, kid? They patch that up for ya?"

Edward looked back, a little angry for having his monologue interrupted. "Don't need it looked at."

Mordecai looked a little concerned. "Uh, yeah, ya do. Ya gotcha hand blown off."

Edward smiled and raised his arm, drawing back his sleeve as he did so. Mordecai nodded once, comprehending. "Ah, automail. We don't have the capability to fix that here, we'll have to send you back north."

"No." Edward said. "We're not leaving. We've found a good lead and we want to pursue it."

Mordecai shook his head. "How you gonna do anything 'out a hand?"

Edward smiled again. "Do you have a phone? I can have my mechanic come in."

"A'ight," Mordecai said, there's a phone in the front office. I'll have a couple of bunks moved in here for you two in the meantime."

"Thank you, Lt Col," Alphonse, the one in the suit of armor, said.

Mordecai looked at him. "Don't you ever take that off?" he asked.

"Uh… no."

Mordecai shrugged and walked away. As he passed through the front office he told one of the desk clerks to get two bunks for the brothers and allow them use of the phone as they'd require it. The clerk nodded.

Mordecai walked out the door and found Mustang, York, and Corvin waiting on the porch. "Lt Col," Mustang said, "I'd like to have a word with you."

Mordecai rolled his eyes and sighed. "What?"

York began yelling something about showing you superior officers the proper respect. Mordecai didn't like York before Mustang's arrival, and liked the man even less, now that he was emboldened by Mustang's presence. Mordecai grabbed York by the throat. "Shut the fuck up," he whispered, low and deadly. York's face went pale.

Mustang put his hand up, pulling Mordecai's arm away from York's throat. "Lt Col, this is important. Really important. It was Major Caine here who brought this to our attention."

Mordecai looked at Corvin and raised an eyebrow. "It's some heavy shit, boss," Corvin replied.

"As much as I _hate_ to agree with him, he's right," Mustang said. "That last rebel, the teenager, do you know who he is?"

Mordecai looked back at Mustang, a little bit confused. "No, should I?"

"Well, Lt Saka's men searched all the bodies for identification, as per standard procedure, and they discovered that that boy is the eldest son of… who was it again?" Mustang said, turning to Corvin with his final question.

Corvin's face looked grave and serious. "The kid's dad is Quentin Malachi."

This was bad. Quentin Malachi was the priest at the largest temple in Vyronas. He had massive political power and social influence. Up until now, he had been a quiet supporter of the anti-military insurgency, but had agreed to refrain from making any pro-insurgency statements, from the pulpit or otherwise. The agreement stated that he would not directly support the rebels so long as the military did not harm him, his family, or his property. But this meant all bets were off.

"Quentin Malachi?" Mordecai repeated, not wanting to believe what he heard. Corvin nodded. Mordecai shook his head. "Oh, shit…" he breathed.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter Fifteen: Embers to Inferno**

_Remialcsid: I od ton nwo siht._

The shit had hit the fan.

It had been barely 36 hours since the death of Quentin Malachi's son, and nothing good for the military had happened during them. As required by military law, Mustang had returned the bodies of the twelve slain rebels to their families. This was when the news of Malachi's son's death broke. Malachi had raised his son and the other men who died with him to the position of martyrs. He was calling for total rebellion, and his flock was responding in kind. The fervor peaked around midnight, when Malachi, a gifted showman, had staged a massive demonstration in the plaza in front of his temple. The demonstration culminated in the lighting of a massive funeral pyre containing the bodies of the twelve dead rebels. Malachi ended the ceremony with a call to arms, encouraging all able bodied male citizens of Vyronas to take up arms and report to the nearest insurgent stronghold.

Right now, it was just before eight A.M. on a beautiful, clear morning. The sky was clean blue, with just the barest hint of clouds on the northern horizon. Mustang had called a conference of the command structure of the base. He was there, along with York, Havoc, and the rest of his crew. Mordecai was in attendance, along with the commanders of the three companies under his control; Major Corvin Caine, Major Carlos Calderon, and Major Del Brewster. Several other soldiers were there as well, including Hawkeye, Dio, and a half-dozen regular infantry officers. The Elric Brothers had seen fit to attend, as well.

Mustang began the meeting by asking Major York to brief everyone on the situation. Mordecai objected, stating York hadn't left the base once since he got here and was not qualified to speak about the situation. He suggested Corvin should explain the situation. Mustang sighed and said 'fine.'

Corvin cleared his throat. "Well, the problem's this; Quentin Malachi is a very important social and religious leader with massive political clout. In the recent mortar attack, his son was amongst the insurgents killed. We attempted to take the boy alive, but he slit his own throat rather than surrender. Rather than let him bleed out, he was given a .45 caliber mercy. Malachi has since called for open rebellion. Last night he staged a massive demonstration underlining that fact. Currently, local rebel groups are united in a way they've never been before, with Malachi as their centerpiece. Our sources indicate the enemy in organizing and mobilizing as we speak. Attacks on us are imminent. That's 'bout the size of it." Corvin was a surprisingly good public speaker.

"So, what do we do, Major?" Mustang asked.

Corvin shrugged. "That's the hard part. We have lots of options, but we have to be careful about them. I'm not really the person to ask about this, I think Lt Col Mordecai's input is most valuable right now." Several soldiers nodded and expressed their agreement with that statement.

Mustang sighed. He knew Mordecai was the best person to ask for advice in this situation, even though he hated to admit it. "Lt Col, what course of action do you recommend?"

"I'll tell you what we _can't_ do. We can't just sit around and wait for them to hit us. They're going to, but we have to do everything we can to soften the blow. They're coordinated now in a way they've never been. They have more men and more weapons at their disposal than ever before. They're organizing. We have pictures here to prove it." Mordecai turned, Dio handed his commander a manila envelope. Mordecai opened the envelope and emptied it onto the table. It was full of large pictures. These photos were passed around. "The photos with the red 'X' in the corner," Mordecai went on "show a number of insurgent bases throughout the area. As you can see, they are full of men and equipment. Those photos were all take in the last six hours. The photos with the blue 'O' in the corner show the same bases before Malachi shot his mouth off. As you can see, insurgent strength has increased exponentially."

Mustang looked at the pictures as they made their way around the assembled soldiers. This was not good. "What do you recommend we do next, Lt Col?"

Mordecai grinned a bit at this. "We gotta hit 'em first. We know where most of their bases are and the best way to protect ourselves is fuck up the enemy 'fore they get a chance to try to fuck us up. We hit their bases, a lot of their new recruits might just pack it up and go home; I mean, a lot of these new guys are only in it 'cuz Malachi told 'em to get in it. We give 'em a good scare; a lot of 'em should pack it in. Moreover, any damage we can do now helps us in the future. After all, every guy we kill before they hit us is one less guy with the trigger down when the hit finally comes. Thirdly, right now they aren't expecting us to attack them, and even if they are, they're not prepared for it. Best of all, several of our informants told us that there's gonna be a meeting today between a bunch of the leaders of the insurgent groups. If we hit that, we have a good chance to seriously damage their command structure."

Mustang nodded. "Alright, Lt Col; here's how we'll work it," Mustang said, "all the regular infantry units will stay on the base and make ready for any sort of attack. We will prepare positions, ready the artillery, whatever. You may take the Light Infantry and deploy them as you see fit against the enemy. I expect you to disrupt the foe as much as possible while we make ready here. Is that understood?"

Mordecai grinned, violence in his eyes. "Hells yeah it is."

Mustang nodded, happy Mordecai's aggression was directed in a direction other than at him.

The next forty minutes were incredibly hectic. Mordecai decided to launch three simultaneous attacks against the insurgency at once. Major Brewster would take his company and go hit an insurgent base hidden in a canyon bout eleven miles north-by-northwest of the base. Major Calderon would take his company to the east and clear out a number of small villages of known insurgent presence; destroying weapons caches, arresting known sympathizers, and hunting down any hostiles in the area. Meanwhile, Mordecai himself would lead 1st Company (under command of Corvin Caine) into the mountains to the north. Several insurgent leaders were holding a meeting in an abandoned monastery and Mordecai didn't want to miss the opportunity. He and Corvin's 1st Platoon would enter and clear the monastery, while 3rd Platoon maintained the perimeter and 2nd Platoon launched a diversionary attack against a small rebel garrison in a village down the road. 2nd Platoon's job was important because this village lay on the only road to the monastery, so once they cleared out the enemy, they'd hold the road, ensuring no reinforcements made it to their leaders' rescue.

At the Light Infantry boarded their trucks and left the base, Mustang stepped out from the administrative office. He'd just finished instructing the Elric Brothers to keep inside in the event of an attack on the base. As he watched the last truck leave he saw something that stopped him dead in his tracks. Mordecai was riding in the back of that truck, along with several other soldiers. One of them was Lt Hawkeye. Worse, Hawkeye was no longer wearing a blue uniform, having instead donned a green Light Infantry one.

As the truck passed through the base's checkpoint and into the world, Mustang let a quite admonition pass over his lips. "Oh, shit…" he whispered.


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter Sixteen: The Blaze Takes Hold**

_Disclaimer: I'll let you guess…_

Mordecai was crouched in a ravine, radio headset held up to his ear. Corvin, Hawkeye, Jankow, Beef, Dio, and a few other soldiers were around him, waiting for news from their commander. Mordecai nodded and said "When you hear gunfire, go." He then put the headset back on top of the radio box.

Mordecai turned to the assembled soldiers. "A'ight, are we ready?" he asked.

"Third Platoon's all set up, boss," Jankow said. Third was the fire support platoon, therefore was full of marksmen, snipers, and machine guns. Their job was to hold the perimeter while First Platoon cleared out the monastery. Mordecai nodded in reply before turning to Corvin.

"We're ready when you are," Corvin replied. Mordecai grinned. "Then let's go!" the Lt Col growled.

Mordecai slowly moved through the woods, his crew in tow. When he reached the treeline about twenty feet ahead, he slowed to a silent stop. "Here's the plan," he whispered, binoculars up to his eyes. "I can see the meeting right now. They're in the old worship hall. I'll take Corvin and Dio and first and second squads with me right at 'em. We'll wipe out the meeting. That's where all the leaders are. Beef will take third and fourth squads; they'll go in through the main entrance, Jankow, make sure they have real good covering fire and don't be afraid to use the mortars we got. Fifth and sixth squads will come in from the opposite side. They've got to clear out the old living quarters. It doesn't look like anybody's in there, but I want to be sure. Seventh squad will come in from the last side, make sure to use that irrigation ditch I see for cover. They'll follow the ditch to the garden; then clear those outbuildings around there. Eighth squad will follow right behind seventh, but they've gotta go straight into the monastery itself and clear the chapel and take the bell tower. Got it?"

All the sergeants nodded and scrambled off to tell their squads the plan. Mordecai then turned to Hawkeye. "Hawk, here's your job; see those three guys up in the bell tower?" Mordecai asked. Hawkeye peered through the scope of her rifle and saw there were three rebels up in the tower. Two had scoped rifles. One had a machine gun. "Hawk, I need you to take them out; then start knocking down anything else you see that ain't us. I don't care if you see a damn dog; blow it away, got it?" Hawkeye nodded and clicked the safety off on her rifle. Mordecai flashed a violent grin. Hawkeye returned it.

Mordecai waited a minute so everyone could get ready, then he looked back over his shoulder. He had a cigarette in his mouth, his BAR in his hands, his Colt on his belt and his shotgun across his back. Hawkeye made eye contact. Mordecai winked. "A'ight, GO!" he said.

It was about twenty to thirty yards from the treeline to the large wooden doors that opened into the meeting place. Hawkeye didn't bother watching the soldiers run. She already had her weapon up and ready, drawing a quick bead on the hostiles in the tower. She suddenly realized she'd been given the perfect shot. She took it.

The bullet left the bolt-action Mauser at almost 2500 feet per second. Mind you, that doesn't mean it stayed at that speed the whole flight, but it still was moving damn fast when it made contact.

The bullet ripped into the throat of the rebel with the machine gun. He had been crouched or sitting behind the parapet, but wasn't low enough. He disappeared from view, grasping at the wound, all in vain though, he was a goner. The bullet continued, however, and punched into the chest of a second rebel. He took a set back from the blow and toppled over backwards. The third man recoiled from the sudden death of his two comrades. Before he could regain composure Hawkeye sent a second bullet into the man's skull, knocking his down before he knew what hit him. She then swung her rifle down, hunting more targets. The rest of Third Platoon opened up as well, pounding the old building with indiscriminant gunfire.

Meanwhile, Mordecai's detachment had reached the doors. He was leading, with Corvin following on his right side and Dio back on his left. First squad was behind Corvin and second was behind Dio. They were arranged in 'V' shape. If one were to look down on them from above, it would seem as if they were trying to imitate a flock of migrating geese. Heavily armed migrating geese.

Mordecai kicked the door clan off its rusted hinges and burst into the room. It was a long, wide room. The ceiling was long gone and the rebel leaders and their lieutenants had arranged a number of chairs in a loose circle. They were caught unprepared, slightly scattered by the sudden outburst of gunfire from the woods.

Mordecai began firing from the hip. Corvin came in next, 12 gauge shotgun up and blasting. Dio dove through the doorway and rolled into a crouching position and began sweeping the room with his submachine gun. The twenty other soldiers in first and second squads followed, weapons up and hammering. Z, sergeant of first squad was yelling something, inaudible over the roar of gunfire. Mordecai's gun stopped firing and he reloaded quickly, but it was unnecessary; 

everything else in the room that wasn't one of his men was dead. "Keep moving!' he barked. "Clear the rest!"

It took two minutes more to clear the rest of the monastery. The enemy presence was minimal and resistance never really formed. After the monastery was cleared, Mordecai waved back to Third Platoon, calling them forward. They came running.

"This went down easier than I thought it would," Mordecai said once all his officers and sergeants were assembled, it was an excellent operation, not one soldier had been hit or injured in any way. "Don't think they thought we knew 'bout this." Mordecai laughed once as he kicked a rebel corpse lying near his feet. "A'ight," he said next, "Search the place. Take any documents or anything that looks important. Jankow, got that camera I told ya to bring?" Jankow nodded and presented the camera. "Good," Mordecai continued, "Take a picture of every dead guy in this room. Make sure it's a picture of their face. When we get back to base we can develop 'em and scuzz out who we took out. Corvin, Dio, organize our first and second squads and Jankow's first squad. I'll take those forces down the road to see how 2nd platoon did down in the village. When it's all good up here, hit us up on the radio so's we can pull out. We'll come back up here, where we'll regroup as a Company and then we'll head out back to the trucks. Everybody got it?" When no one said 'no,' Mordecai smiled. "Get to it then!"

As everyone scrambled off to do their jobs, Mordecai turned to Hawkeye. "I want you to come with me. I'm worried they might have got a radio call out and if reinforcements are coming they'll have to come up that road through the village. I want you and your rifle down there in case we got to hold 'em off." Mordecai drew a new cigarette out of the pack in his pocket. He put it in his mouth and lit it, inhaling deeply. He pulled another cigarette and offered it to Hawkeye. Hawkeye shrugged and took the cigarette. Mordecai lit it for her.

Dio came up from her right. "Hey, boss," he said, "we're all organized and ready to go. Hey! Look at this!" Dio whistled and shook his head looking at Hawkeye.

"What?" Hawkeye said.

Dio laughed. "You're smoking again! You know what that means! The bad ole days are back again!" Dio laughed once more. "Oh, shit…" he chuckled, reminiscing.


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter Seventeen: Getting Burned**

_Disclaimer: This not I own do._

Mordecai lead the three squads of infantry on a quick jog down the road. It was only about fifteen to twenty minutes away at a good clip. When they reached the village, they were greeted by Lt Donahue, the commander of 2nd platoon.

"Cooper," Donahue said, "what's this you bring me?"

"Backup," Mordecai answered. "Got a machine gun squad and two squads infantry to help you in case shit gets heavy. Moreover, got the best sniper either of us've ever seen…" Mordecai nodded his head in direction of Hawkeye.

Donahue smiled in response. "And I thank you for that. Glad to be workin' alongside the good Lt Hawkeye again!" Hawkeye smiled. "Thank you, Kilo," she said. Kilo was Donahue's nickname.

"A'ight, what we got?" Mordecai asked, referring to the situation at hand. Kilo explained the village contained two-dozen buildings situated around the road. The road emerged from the woods and wrapped its way around a mountain, coming into view barley three hundred yards away from the village. Still, the village was a bottleneck. Looking down the road, Mordecai could see as such. To his left was a mountain, steep craggy cliffs rising from the earth. Mordecai did not know that the mountain used to have a smooth, sloping side, but it was blown away by dynamite and alchemy to allow the road to pass through. On Mordecai's right, there were more cliffs; only this time Mordecai was on the topside of them. At their base lay a swamp. Mordecai could plainly see any reinforcements trying to get through to the monastery would have to come through here.

"How was resistance when you cleared it out?" Mordecai asked.

Kilo shrugged. "Barely any. There were three jeeps and eleven guys here when we hit 'em. Two of 'em got in a jeep and tried to drive up to the monastery, but we cut them down 'fore they got anywhere. Good news, we cleared it out in about fifteen seconds, killed 'em all, and took no casualties. Bad news, one of 'em was screaming into a radio when we hit 'em. Don't know if he called for help or was warnin' the guys back up at the monastery."

Mordecai nodded once, slowly, not liking the news about the radio. "Hmph. We took out everything up at the monastery. Didn't see any radios myself; but I wasn't lookin' for 'em. Guess we just gotta get ready for the worst and hope we're wrong about worrying." Kilo nodded.

Mordecai was quick to deploy his forces. Kilo had set up a solid defense of his own, with four squads right along the front of the village, either in buildings or dug in in positions they'd constructed themselves. Two more squads were set up on his right flank, overlooking the swamp from the top of the cliffs barely even ten yards away. Kilo had left his last two squads in the center of the village in reserve. Mordecai let Kilo's men stay where they were and set up his men to supplement their positions. He put himself, Corvin, Dio, Z's squad, and the machine gun squad from Jankow's platoon right in the first line of resistance with Kilo's first four squads. He then deployed his last squad back with the two squads Kilo had in reserve. He instructed all the soldiers to hold their fire if the enemy came up the road. Hawkeye would fire the first shot, then, all hell was to be let loose. Once Mordecai was assured everyone knew the plan, he took up a position in a second story window.

After about three or four minutes, Mordecai turned to Corvin, set up the next window over. "You hear that?" he asked. Corvin nodded. Engines. Vehicles were coming. Mordecai watched as several rebel trucks and a number of smaller vehicles emerged from the woods in a tight group, speeding up the road. He silently prayed the soldiers would hold their fire as instructed. It only took one jumpy trigger finger to set it off early, and Mordecai did not want Hawkeye's shot spoiled.

It wasn't. The men held their fire as ordered. Hawkeye lined up an excellent shot in the meantime; and when she clicked the trigger back, the bullet sailed directly into her target. She hit the driver of the first truck in the rebel convoy.

The truck swerved right, then left, crashing into a tree before hopping sideways and rolling on its side. At that, the Light Infantry opened up. Mordecai popped up into the window and began blasting away with his BAR. Aiming wasn't really necessary. Just point and shoot. The convoy stopped in the face of such firepower. Bullets ricocheted off what was bulletproof and punched holes through what wasn't. Hawkeye shifted her fire and began shooting at the engine of the last truck in line. If she could immobilize that one, then the others couldn't escape.

The machine gunners were having a field day. Targets galore, all bunched up and out in the open. They swept their fire back and forth, ripping up whatever they caught. Riflemen threw themselves into it, too; snapping off shots as fast as they could. Everyone added to the fusillade.

The rebels tried to mount some sort of reply, but it just never happened. They never had a chance. Some of the trucks had caught fire from fuel lines and gas tanks meeting sparking ricochets and impact friction from incoming rounds. The soldiers poured on the fire for a good minute before Mordecai yelled for them to cease fire. Everything was either on fire or ventilated from the rain of bullets. Thick black smoke poured upwards from the flaming wrecks and blocked the view of whatever lay behind them.

Mordecai turned to Corvin and grinned maliciously. "Got 'em!" he laughed. Corvin smiled in reply.

Suddenly, someone began shouting. "There's more!" as a new truck emerged from the smoke. Hawkeye ducked out of sight to reload her rifle as the Light Infantry opened up again. This new blast of violence was short-lived. Hawkeye heard Mordecai and Corvin shouting. They were screaming for the men to cease fire. Hawkeye recognized a savage urgency in Mordecai's voice. This was important. She shifted her weapon back to her shoulder and looked down the scope at the devastation that lay in front of their position. She could plainly see the burning trucks and the dead and dying rebels strewn about. Nothing looked out of the ordinary for a battle scene.

Then something else caught her eye. Something that disturbed her usual focus and shattered her professional calm. The new trucks were different than the first group of vehicles to arrive. They were military trucks. Hawkeye then saw something that made her blood run cold. There was a man, with blood on his face and blood on his side, screaming and running towards their position. He was wearing a blue uniform. Hawkeye focused the scope and saw it was Havoc.

"Oh, shit…" she whispered to herself.


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18: Third Degree**

_Disclaimer: Transitional chapter. Not very good. Blame not me._

Hawkeye didn't really understand the next few minutes. Mordecai told her to stay in the village and keep overwatch. He wanted her and some other soldiers to keep their eyes out for more enemy forces. She stayed put, but she wasn't watching for the enemy. She was sweeping her scope over the road. She knew what she was doing, but didn't want to admit it. She was looking for Mustang. Havoc was here, and Hawkeye doubted he'd be far from his Colonel's side. She was terrified. She didn't want to look, out of fear the alchemist may be out there, wounded or worse, but she couldn't stand the pain of not knowing.

She saw Corvin clamber into the cab of one of the trucks. She wondered what he was doing. He gunned the engine and rammed into the flaming wreck of a rebel truck in front of him. The rebel truck ground forward. Corvin slammed into reverse; then gunned forward again, squeezing his vehicle past the flaming wreck. Mordecai began yelling about getting the wounded into the trucks and heading up to the monastery. This was done with brutal efficiency. Hawkeye watched as the Light Infantry scrambled around, lifting their blue-uniformed brethren up from the ground, passing them into the trucks. They were handed up, burnt offerings to the gods of war.

Corvin climbed out of his truck and told another soldier to drive it up to the monastery. Hawkeye recognized the man as the Sergeant from patrol a few days ago. She didn't remember his name. She served with him in Ishbal but for the love of god couldn't remember the man's name right now.

Mordecai was yelling. He was running up towards the village. Corvin, Dio, Kilo, and a few other men were with him. Mordecai said something about the monastery and men began running. The soldiers began a swift and clean withdrawal from the village.

As Hawkeye stood to go, Mordecai and Corvin came up through the hatchway into the attic where Hawkeye had set up shop. They looked at each other. Mordecai told Corvin to 'oversee the fall back' and Corvin left. Mordecai looked back to Hawkeye.

"Was he there?" she asked.

"Mustang's fine, Hawk. Stupid as shit, but fine. Got himself a nice gash 'cross his head from when his forehead and the dashboard decided to play chicken, but he'll be fine." Mordecai could see how his words lifted a weight of Hawkeye's back. "He's concussed, I think, so he doesn't know what the fuck's going on. Prob'ly for the best." Mordecai sighed. "We better get going. I 

told Dio to get all the Sergeants and Lieutenants who were here for this together in one truck back at the staging point. We gotta figure this shit out…"

Hawkeye nodded. They left. Corvin and Kilo were waiting at the door. The fall back was picture-perfect. They got to the monastery to find Jankow had already moved everyone to the staging point to facilitate the withdrawal. Just as well.

Within a few minutes, Hawkeye found herself in the bed of a truck, surrounded by grim-faced soldiers. Mordecai sat on her right, Dio on her left. Corvin and Kilo were there also, as well as eleven squad leaders, all sergeants. Mordecai looked around from face to face. "A'ight, what the fuck happened out there?" he asked.

"We shot up our own guys," Dio said, somber and downbeat. Hawkeye hadn't seen Dio like this since…

"Lissen;" Mordecai growled, "you can bet your collective ass that Central's gonna hear about this. All friendly fire incidents are reported, and with Mustang and York both here it's as good as a guarantee Central will know about this by nightfall. They're gonna want to know what the fuck happened out there. We need to be able to tell them; else it'll be our heads."

Everyone nodded. Men of greater consequence then them had had their careers destroyed over events like this.

Corvin looked up. "We shot up the incoming hostiles damn good. Then more vehicles appeared from the woods. Some of the men began firing again, and then the machine guns kicked in. Mordecai, myself, and the other officers got the firing to stop but the damage had been done."

There was more nodding. Kilo snorted. "What happened isn't the problem. Central's gonna want to crucify someone over this. We just gotta tell 'em who's it gonna be."

Dio laughed once, a bitter, angry sound, not a laugh. "Tell 'em to crucify the idiot who drove a convoy of trucks into a firefight. Crucify the idiot who decided to plow right down the barrels of our guns. Crucify the idiot who never gave us warning he was coming. Crucify the idiot who could have plainly heard the sounds of gunfire and plainly have seen the enemy convoy on the road in front of him but decided to still carry forward. Tell Central to crucify _that_ guy."

There was a lot more nodding at that.

"Question is," Corvin said, stroking his beard, "who is that guy?"

Dio grinned. "Betcha my ass it'll be Mustang."

Hawkeye leaned back on the wall of the truck. "Oh, shit," she whispered, almost inaudible. Mordecai heard it, but he didn't do anything.


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter Nineteen: First Aid**

_Disclaimer: AAAAAAARGH!_

The air itself in the room singed electric. Tension was high. Violence past and future hung heavy like a shroud. The soldiers knew they were not alone. Death was here. He had arrived in the last few days and had had himself a field day yesterday. Between Brewster's success in wiping out an enemy supply hub, Calderon's masterful Company-scale firesweep, and First Company's now infamous actions, Death himself was very pleased with the day.

What kept the bastard here was the promise of more violence. The soldiers hated his presence. They stood around the table, too much tension to sit. It was dark in the bomb-proof bunker; one light hanging over the table threw contrast heavy. Shadows and light ran over outlines and sharp forms at will.

It was all officers, except for Dio. Mordecai, Mustang, Hawkeye, Corvin, Brewster, Calderon, York, Havoc, Kilo, Beef, Jankow, and Falman stood around the heavy oaken table. Dio hung back in the shadows a bit; visible, but not at the table.

There was a solid, heavy silence. Mordecai pushed it away with a sigh. "What happened out there, from my position at least," he began, "looked like this; we were faced with incoming hostiles and we shot 'em up. Immediately after I called cease fire, another convoy arrived on the scene. Shooting began again. We managed to suppress the gunfire but damage was already done. I do not fault myself, my officers, or my men. We behaved exactly as we should have."

Mustang made a sound. It was a bitter noise. Sarcastic and caustic. "Well, that's where you'd be wrong; Lt. Col. Your men did not behave in an acceptable manner. You were trigger-happy and reckless and good men paid for your mistakes, sometime with their lives. The Light Infantry is directly at fault for what happened out there."

"Bullshit!" Mordecai barked. His voice echoed against the walls and against the tension, cracking at the others in the room. "'_Reckless_?' You drove your trucks up the ass of a firefight! What the fuck did you expect to happen? My men behaved exactly how any soldier should have behaved! You were one playing with fire here, _alchemist_, and you got burned! Thirty-six soldiers are dead and their blood is on your hands, Mustang!"

Mustang recoiled, pulling himself like a cobra. "We're the ones who got shot up by our own side, Mordecai."

Mordecai's eyes narrowed. He brought his hand up, pointing his first two fingers across the table at Mustang, cigarette held perpendicular. "If you think for one goddamned second you can play the victim here then that makes you ugly _and_ stupid." Mordecai growled.

Mustang opened his mouth to respond but the door of the room slammed open. Everyone's heads whipped around in the direction of the noise. Second Lt Gonzalez, commander of Calderon's first platoon was framed in the door. He flinched at the collection of razor-edged glares suddenly turned his way. "Boss," he said, pointing to Mordecai, "We got a problem…"

"We're in a clusterfuck of problems right now, Gonzo," Mordecai said. "What's this one?"

"The train, sir."

Mordecai's eye's flashed. He looked up. "The train still came?" he was shocked. He called the next station up, a military post up the line, and told them not to let any trains through to Vyronas after Malachi's uprising began.

"I couldn't believe it either. We got a call just now about them letting it through."

'Why the fuck did they let it through? Did they say why?" Mordecai barked.

"They said it was State Alchemist business. That they were ordered by phone by a State Alchemist to let it through."

Mordecai wheeled on Mustang. "You let a fucking train through?" he asked, disbelief plain across his face.

Mustang shook his head. "No," said he.

Gonzalez stepped forward. "They said it was a mechanic that needed to get through. The guy talked really fast and mumbled a lot, I didn't catch everything he said. But he sure said the word 'automail' a lot…"

"Winry," Hawkeye breathed.

Mordecai spun around. "What?"

"Winry Rockbell. Edward Elric's automail mechanic." Hawkeye said.

Mordecai spun round again. He made eye contact with Mustang. "It's the fucking kid!" he roared. "That fucking kid called the train through!"

Mustang made a face drawn of frustrated disbelief. _Did Ed actually just order the military to drive Winry straight into a fucking warzone?_

"When's it going to get here?" Mordecai asked, moving towards the door. This wasn't good. If the enemy got the train then they'd probably have hostages. Worse, they'd have a train. The military didn't allow trains to stay in Vyronas due to weapons smuggling and drug running. But if they got their own train they could hit the next point up the line, where there were many trains and very few soldiers.

Gonzalez looked to the ground then back to his commander. "An hour, they said, probably a bit less."

"Fuck!" Mordecai roared, running out the door. Everyone else followed.

Mordecai was already barking orders, running towards the administrative building. The best radios were in there. "Someone raise the train on the radio! Tell them to stop the fucking train! Throw that shit in reverse and get the hell out of here! Hurry! Get that thing gone before anyone finds out!"

"We can't!" someone yelled from the building as Mordecai lead the charge through the door.

"Fuck ya mean ya can't!" Mordecai shouted.

"Straight static, bro!" the radio man replied from behind square-cut wire-framed glasses and cigarette smoke. "Someone's fuckin' wit the channels!" He spun the dial, cycling through frequency after frequency. All were crushing white noise. "It's not us, man," he said, "somebody's doing this…"

The phone rang. Once. Twice.

"Pick that the fuck up!" Mordecai barked. Lives were on the line. Containment was on the line.

The desk clerk answered the phone and the room went silent. It was the public line from Vyronas. It could be anybody. The clerk said something, but was cut short. He nodded.

The clerk looked up. "He wants to speak with the boss," he said, handing the phone to Mordecai.

As Mordecai brought the receiver to his ear York snapped some comment about how Mustang was the real commander here. Mordecai ignored him, eyes focused and flashing bright. York made another comment. Mordecai hissed for him to shut it. York got bolder and opened his mouth again. Mordecai glared and whispered 'shut the fuck up.' York said a fourth thing. Mordecai turned to Corvin and whispered 'get him out of here.'

Corvin nodded. Him and Beef turned and seized hold of York by the arms. They dragged him outside and threw him off the porch.

Mordecai, in the meantime, looked ready to kill. In his left hand was the phone. His right hand was gripping the top of a folding metal chair. Anyone could see Mordecai's knuckles were stark white and his grip was tightening. Everyone was quiet for a while then Mordecai growled into the phone; "I'll kill you," which quickly became a full roar; "I'll fuckin' kill you! I'll fuckin' cut pieces out of you and mail 'em to your fuckin' family!" Mordecai then slammed the receiver back down, so hard the phone was smashed into the desk, exploding, parts going everywhere.

Mordecai was out the door before Corvin stopped his boos. "Who was it?" the red-bearded man asked.

"Motherfuckin' Rudo," Mordecai growled.

Everyone paused. Tabor Rudo was a big figure in the local insurgency. All the men who knew his name hated him, no one more so than Mordecai.

"Who's 'Rudo?'" Mustang asked, cautiously.

"Tabor Rudo," Corvin began, "Well… last year, four regular infantry soldiers and two Light Infantry men were kidnapped while on patrol by Rudo's men. They were used as propaganda by Rudo himself. Mordecai went on a personal crusade looking for the missing soldiers. He threatened to tear Vyronas apart brick by brick if that's what it would take. He would have too…."

"Damn straight I would have," Mordecai growled, dark murder in his eyes.

"Aye," Corvin began again. "But that proved unnecessary. Mordecai's campaign was so… _intense_ that it created public pressure on Rudo to return the men, just to end Mordecai's crusade. Well… the soldiers were returned, but…" Corvin trailed off.

"But what, Major?" Mustang pressed.

"They were dead," Mordecai said. "We didn't even get them alive. They were left on display at certain points throughout Vyronas and Rudo called us with each location one at a time. All had been murdered. Each had been tortured, and not the little cigarette burns and beatings shit, but really seriously tortured. It was… the most _fucked-up sadistic shit_ I've ever seen. One of the regular infantry soldiers was female. She'd been raped repeatedly. Rudo is the sickest son of a bitch I've ever dealt with. The shit he pulled was beyond anything I've ever seen. He's a fucking coward too. Never shows hide nor hair of himself." Mordecai paused; hate boiling his blood against his skin. 'I swore I'll see him dead, and by god I will."

There was a pause. Soldiers exchanged glances. Mordecai's hands were visibly shaking with rage. Mustang did not like the sound of this 'Rudo' man. "Uh… what did he call about?"

Mordecai turned. Death was smiling upon his favored disciple. "He knows the train is coming."

Those words hit like a brick. There was silence. Someone whispered "Oh, shit."


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter Twenty: Pathogen**

_Disclaimer: Kinda short this one be. Characters not owned by me._

There was a problem.

Mordecai wanted to take a platoon of Light Infantry out and flag down the train before Rudo's men got to it. Mustang was giving him shit about this.

"The way your men behave under fire, Lt Col, does not exactly make me want to trust you with this mission!" Mustang barked.

"My men are some of the best soldiers the military has to offer! They shouldn't have to pay the price for _your_ fuck-ups!"

Mustang made a face of utter disgust. "There is at least one civilian on that train! I can't trust your men with the rescue of the train! I want the regular infantry to do it!" Mustang crossed his arms.

Mordecai laughed. "There's an idea! What's the light infantry gonna do, eh? Firstoff, they don't know the fuckin' terrain! If you wanna get to the train in time, you gotta swing it offroad, and the reg'lar infantry boys don't know shit 'bout the backroads or 'bout kickin' up some dirt! You're gonna need Light Infantry troopers just to find your way!"

Mustang looked to York, hoping the man would say something to prove Mordecai wrong. York just looked away.

Mordecai continued. "Secondly, the regs don't got the vehicles for such an undertakin'! Only the Light Infantry posses the kinda trucks wot you gonna need to get to where ya gotta be in time!"

Mustang snapped back, ordering Mordecai to turn over the appropriate vehicles.

Mordecai smiled. "Don't think we can do that, sir."

Mustang sneered. "What do you mean?"

"See, our trucks is locked up. Keep 'em that way so no one can try to shoot 'em or fuck with 'em. Problem is, you don't got the keys for the garage, now do ya?"

'What if I order you to turn over the keys?"

"Maybe we'd, I dunno… loose the keys?"

Mustang glared. He could not believe Mordecai was toying with him like this. "Fine. Get me two trucks. One for the assault group and one for a fire support team. One of your squads and one of mine in each truck. Is that satisfactory, _Lt Col?_"

Mordecai grinned. "It's fine with me. Ace, fire up two of the 6x6's, would ya?"

Soon after, two of the Light Infantry's 6x6's were kicking up dust across the rough scrubland of the province. Each 6x6 consisted of a four-door closed cab and a truck bed behind it. All six massive wheels were powered and each had an independent suspension which allowed great off-road capabilities.

Corvin was driving the first 6x6. He was the best off-road driver anyone had seen. He drove it like a boat, understanding the drift and the sway and the roll across the rugged earth. He used the E-brake a lot to swing out the back four tires as he made his turns. The trucks hammered along steadily, pushing towards 60 mph on flat ground but never dropping below 40. It was a bumpy ride.

The truck cabs each consisted of two bench seats, both facing forward, both with ample room for three troopers. Corvin was up front driving. Mustang was farthest to the right and Lt Breda sat between them. Breda and Mustang were arguing about the map. Corvin ignored them. He knew where he was going.

In the backseat, Hawkeye sat at the driver's side window, rifle up and ready, covering the vehicle's flank. Mordecai was at the other window, BAR primed and hungry. In the bed behind them, protected by bulletproof flakboard and camouflage netting, sat two squads of infantry, one Light, one regular, armed with submachine guns. The Light Infantry Squad was Sgt Z's unit. He was back there, clinging to the wall. It was a very rough ride, but comfort was not a luxury the 6x6's were designed for.

The second 6x6 followed close behind. Mustang had put York in that one, with a rifle and machine gun squad in the back. Lt Del Brewster was driving; Franconi and a collection of green-clad fire support guys and riflemen packed in there with him.

Corvin swung the vehicle around a switchback in the dirt road and crested a ridgeline. The train came into view, chugging merrily along, about a mile from the 6x6.

Mustang smiled. "Floor it, we caught them in time!"

Mordecai leaned forward. "No, we didn't." Mordecai was pointing in a different direction. At a rising cloud and several moving black shapes up ahead. Mustang looked. There were about a half-dozen jeep-type vehicles and a swarm of dirtbikes tearing towards the train. The jeeps had red flags with a brown insignia flying over them. They were going to intercept the train.

"Who…?" Mustang began.

"Rudo's men," Mordecai replied.

"Oh, shit."


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter Twenty One: An Intellectual Exchange**

_Disclaimer: I don't own._

Havoc leaned back in his chair, kicking his feet up on the desk. He and three other soldiers were seated around the phone and the radio, just in case Rudo called again or in case the trucks needed support or intel. The base was on full alert. Everyone was ready.

Havoc looked to his left. Warrant Officer Falman sat there, elbows on the desk, chin resting on his hands. He turned his eyes back, looking across the table at the two Light Infantry men who had taken up positions there. One was the man called Dio, a First Sergeant. Havoc thought Dio was probably a decent guy, except for his allegiance to the Light Infantry and Lt Col Mordecai. The other was the guy Mordecai called 'Beef,' even though his name tag read 'SAKA.' Havoc didn't have a high opinion of Beef.

Havoc was smoking and he blew a puff of smoke lazily towards the ceiling. "Soooo…" he said, slow and soft, "what's up between Hawkeye and your Mordecai fellow?"

Dio and Beef exchanged glances. Beef looked back to Havoc. "None of your concern, that's what it is," he said.

"Just wondering…" Havoc mused. 'She seems pretty familiar with him. Just wondering how that happened…"

"They served together in Ishbal."

"Were they close then?"

Dio and Beef exchanged glances again. "None of your fucking business," Beef growled.

Beef didn't look like a soldier. He looked like a cagefighter in a soldier's uniform. Havoc shrugged. "Just wondering why she seems to prefer hanging out with Mordecai instead of Mustang…"

This elicited a response from Beef and Dio, both of whom sat straight up in the chairs, leaning forward ready to fight.

"You sayin' somethin' 'bout our boss?" Beef growled. Falman sat stonefaced. _These aren't men,_ the Warrant Officer thought, _these are animals._

Havoc smirked. "Maybe I am."

"Boy you better learn to hold your mouth 'fore someone goes an' knocks it off."

Havoc grinned. "Guess I just don't see in Mordecai whatever it is Hawkeye sees in him…" He had meant to say 'thinks she sees in him' but decided not to.

Dio's eyebrows narrowed. "You know nothing," he said, even and low. "Mordecai is a leader. A man who leads by example. A man who never orders 'Charge' without a 'Follow me.' He's a decorated soldier and a damn fine officer. Whatever you think you know about Lt Col Mordecai, forget it. You know nothing."

Havoc glared back. "And I'm sure _you_ know Col Mustang just as well as I know Mordecai."

Dio laughed. "Mustang's a prick. Walks around like he's the greatest thing ta ever come outta Amestris. A skilled alchemist? Yes. Charismatic? Yes. But a leader? Never."

"That's a damn lie. Mustang _is_ a leader. He's seen his share of combat and his staff will follow him through the gate of hell!"

Beef chuckled. "Aye. But would he _lead_ the way through those gates?"

Before Havoc could respond, two more Light Infantry officers walked in through the door. One was Kilo, the Lt from earlier. Havoc didn't like Kilo after the incident at the village. The other was a woman. She was slight but intense. Black hair and focused eyes. Her name tag read 'MARCEL.' Kilo pulled a chair up next to Dio and she sat down on Kilo's lap.

"What's up?" she asked, sensing tension in the room.

"This fool been askin' 'bout our two birds," Dio said.

Marcel and Kilo laughed. Beef kept glaring at Havoc. Havoc looked puzzled. Falman wondered if Beef was even capable of smiling.

"What?" Havoc asked.

"'Our two birds,'" Marcel said, "we mean Mordecai and Hawkeye."

Havoc looked more puzzled. "'Birds?'"

Marcel rolled her eyes. "We're big on nicknames here. What's Hawkeye's nickname?"

Havoc shrugged.

Marcel looked at him like she was talking to a stump. "'Hawk.' Her nickname is 'Hawk.'"

Havoc nodded.

"Back in Ishbal, the locals gave Mordecai a nickname. If you look at his right shoulder, you'll see a tattoo of a double-headed eagle. The Ishbalans called Mordecai the 'Eagle of Death.'"

Havoc's face did not change.

"The _Eagle_," Marcel said, "and the _Hawk_. Birds."

Havoc's face lit up with comprehension. 'Oh! I get it!"

There was much exasperation at this.

Marcel turned to Dio. "What's he been asking about them?"

Havoc interjected before Dio could speak. "I wanted to know what Hawkeye sees in Mordecai. Why she's been hangin' out with him all the time."

Kilo and Marcel looked at each other and grinned. "Should she not be?" Kilo asked.

Havoc glanced at Falman, hoping for some support. Falman blinked. Havoc turned back.

"I-" he said, "I just… want to know if there's something going on here that I'm not aware about…"

Marcel grinned. "More than you know."

Then the radio in the corner roared to life, a signal punching through the static. Mordecai had been sure to take one of Hutch's custom-built over-powered radios out with him. Beef dove towards it across the desk, pulling the headset and mic to his head. There was shouting coming out of the headset, but no one else could make it out. Beef eventually said "A'ight, we're on our way," into the mic before throwing both it and the headset aside.

Beef stood up. "They need support. They hit enemy forces and are now in a firefight around the train. Worse, the train's stuck."

Havoc leaned his head back. "Oh, shit…"


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter Twenty-Two: No Rest for the Wounded**

_Disclaimer: One-two… one-two-three-four! I don't own FMA!_

Three platoons of Light Infantry thundered across the scrubland. The entire First Company was tearing towards the immobilized train. Beef had decided to take a 'fuck subtlety' approach.

The swarm of 6x6's and jeeps crested another hill and the train came into view. Mordecai had positioned his two 6x6's at either end of the train, creating a bracket-shaped position with an open back. His small detachment was gunning away at an obviously superior force to their north. Rudo's men had taken positions in and around the hills about 100 to 150 yards away from the train. Beef, driver of the lead 6x6, could see what was happening clearly. The two forces were blasting away at each other, but it was clear Rudo's men were winning. It was only a matter of time before enough of them managed to get around the flanks of Mordecai's position. Beef smiled. _Good thing we're here,_ he thought.

Havoc, who leapt aboard Beef's truck at the last second was screaming and banging his fists against the dashboard, demanding Beef speed up. Beef shook his head. He could see Rudo's men in retreat already. The very sight of reinforcements was enough to drive them off. They weren't about full-scale battles. They knew they couldn't win those.

The military came in quickly, taking up positions around the train. They were gone in moments. Mordecai was worried Rudo might come back with artillery or something like that and try to really hurt them while they were in the open. When Rudo's men did return, they found nothing of use. Everyone was gone and the train had been sabotaged so that they couldn't put it to work themselves.

Back at the base, a fierce shouting argument was undertaken the instant the fleet of 6x6's returned. On the one side was Edward Elric; on the other was the rare alliance of Mustang and Mordecai, both furious over what Fullmetal just did.

"What the fuck is wrong with you!?" Mordecai roared. "I put a fuckin' quarantine on this fuckin' city for a fuckin' reason! What were you thinkin'? Lettin' a fuckin' train through when we're sittin' on th' verge a' open war!?"

Mustang agreed, although he maintained a degree of civility the Mordecai lacked. "Why would you let the train through, Ed? Why?"

Elric bristled. "I need my automail fixed, don't I?"

"That don't give ya th' right ta put at risk wot ya went an' put at risk!" Mordecai began counting off on his fingers all the things Edward had endangered by letting the train through. "The crew of the train, the people on th' train, the men back at the depot, the soldiers at all th' outposts along the line, and containment of the rebellion! All these things put directly in th' line of fire by your dumbass dick-faced decision!"

Mustang and Mordecai went on for a good half an hour. Eventually, Mustang had descended into straight up yelling, too, after Ed called him a 'pasty old fart.' Hawkeye and Corvin were watching from the doorway.

"D'ya think we should take a picture?" Corvin asked.

"Why?"

"'Cuz Mordecai and Mustang are agreein' on sumthin' fer once."

Hawkeye laughed.

Eventually, the shouting died down. Mustang and Mordecai came to the joint decision that Edward Elric was confined to the base and was not allowed to use the phones until further notice. Ed was not pleased, but when he began to protest, Mordecai told him to shut up unless he really wanted to "go for a ride in a washing machine." Ed shut up.

Mordecai walked away first, growling something about killing people. Mustang watched him go, then turned back to Ed.

"Ed, do you realize how much danger you just put Winry in?"

Ed looked at the floor.

"In case you haven't noticed," Mustang went on, "we're in the middle of open rebellion. I know what you're doing here, but your search for the Stone is going to have to wait."

"But-"

"I don't care." Mustang turned and walked away.

Ed looked back at the floor. "Oh, shit…"


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter Twenty-Three: Fraternization**

_Disclaimer: I do not own FMA, but if we were commies, the State would._

"A'ight," Beef said. "Ah'cordin' ta th' information we took off a rebel courier last week, Devon Gerri is hidin' out in the farm over there. Fer those ah you who don't know, Gerri is one of Rudo's gunrunners. We've gotten reports th't make it look like Rudo's been sellin' weapons ta Malachi's new militia. We gotta kill this bastard."

Everyone nodded. This was a small operation. In the last week since the train incident, the military and the rebels had been engaging in a deadly game of cat-and-mouse. Each side was trying constantly to outsmart the other, to hit the other when they had the chance. It was a mess.

The flavor of the war had shifted. The large-scale company-sized operations were over. The battles were now being fought by much smaller units, often platoon-sized or smaller. The rebels had spread out, realizing large bases were too easy to find and destroy. Mordecai was now relying on small, swift actions at specific targets to hurt the rebels as much as possible before the next big fight came along.

This operation was one of those. Beef had been given two squads, one Light one regular, and told to go kill Devon Gerri. Mustang sent Lt Havoc to 'command the regular infantry element' and secretly 'to keep an eye on Beef.' Mustang didn't trust Beef. Mordecai, in response, attached Dio to the operation 'as a machine gunner' and also to 'keep an eye on Havoc.' Mordecai didn't trust Havoc. By the time they got to the farm, it was already dusk.

"Here's the plan," Beef said. "Havoc, you and Dio take half the reg squad down 'long th' ridge behin' th' house. Get set up and cover th' buildin'. Th' other half th't squad, you guys get set up down th' road a ways, keep an eye out fer anyone turnin' off th' main road an' comin' this way. If anyone does, light 'em up. I'll take half th' Light squad through th't ditch and we'll get set up behin' th't stone wall. Sgt Z, you take th' other half yer squad and take a position in th' woods on th' other side th' clearing. When my team starts movin' along th't fence right there, I want Havoc an' Dio ta open up on th' house. When my team reaches th't shed, Z's team'll hook round to th't rusted truck and lay in from th't side while my team hooks up from behin' th' shed. When we reach th' house, the covering fire stops and you guys rush th' house ta back us up."

Everyone nodded and moved to take up their positions.

Dio and Havoc set up Dio's machine gun at the far extremity of their position. From here they'd have complete command of the one story farmhouse. As they waited, they began to talk.

"Hey, Havoc."

"Yeah?"

"Why were ya askin' 'bout Hawkeye an' Mordecai the other day?"

"None of your business."

"Damn right it's my business. They're my friends. Known 'em longer than you did."

"She's my friend, too."

"I'll bet."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothin'."

Havoc grunted. "I just don't get why she's always paling around with Mordecai all damn day…"

"'Cuz they mean something to each other that I don't think you understand, that's why."

"Well, what do they _mean to each other_ then?"

"If you'da been there in Ishbal, maybe you'd understand."

"Well, I wasn't. Enlighten me, Sergeant."

"Heh. You're pretty stupid, ain'tcha?"

Havoc did not respond, but looked back at Dio blankly.

Dio went on; "Think we don't notice things? Don't think we got eyes?"

Havoc still didn't get it. "I don't get it."

Dio laughed once, but before he could say anything Beef's squad started moving. "Here we go."

The machine gun opened up. They men on the ridge poured it on. Z and Beef were at the house within moments. They put grenades through windows and followed on the heels of the explosions. Seconds later the house was clear. Z and another man ran and got the team that was covering the road. Within the minute everyone was back in the truck and on the way out of there.

"We did good," Beef said. "Took out Gerri right good, none of us got hit, good job."

"Hey," Z shouted. "How many of 'em were in that house?"

"There were eight of 'em. Why?" Beef replied.

Z smiled. "You bet me twenty bucks that there was gonna be an odd number of 'em in there."

"Oh, shit," Beef sighed, pulling a bill out of his pocket.


	24. Chapter 24

**Chapter Twenty Four: When the Cat's Away…**

_Disclaimer: IDONOTOWNFULLMETALALCHEMIST._

After two more weeks of fighting, Mustang came to the decision that the forces at hand were not enough to put down the rebellion swiftly enough. Mordecai disagreed, stating the fight was going the military's way and adding more soldiers would not help. Mustang, fed up with Mordecai's campaign of slowly eroding enemy morale and leadership, ignored his second-in-command's advice. Mustang decided to return to Central and petition for reinforcements. He took a platoon of regular infantry with him and set off that night. He would travel by 6x6 north until he got to the depot, where he would board a train to Central.

Mordecai watched the trucks go. Corvin ambled up alongside his boss. "What you thinkin' 'bout this?" Corvin asked.

"More troops ain't gonna help. Havin' more soldiers 'roun' here's only gonna give th' enemy a bigger target, only gonna get more guys killed. Moreover, havin' more reg'lar infantry ain't gonna do shit fer us. They're trained fer open battles an' shit like that, they don't know counter-insurgency. Simply put, I think Mustang's being a damn fool with this."

"You told him this, I'm sure."

"Damn straight I did! Damn idiot jus' don't lissen ta nobody but himself."

Corvin nodded. "Too bad he don't know jack 'bout what's goin' down."

"Yeah, too fuckin' bad. But, hey, this gives us a few days ta run this war th' way we shoulda been runnin' it from th' start!"

Laughing, Mordecai and Corvin walked back into the center of the base

Meanwhile, Hawkeye was sitting outside against the wall of the officers' lounge. She was staring off into the night sky. It was amazingly clear. Since the conflict started everything had been under total blackout rules, so there was no light to challenge that of the stars. Hawkeye heard footsteps and looked to see Julia Marcel come around the corner. Hawkeye knew her from Ishbal. She was the only female soldier that Hawkeye served with in Ishbal who was still in the Light Infantry.

"Hey," Marcel said, walking over and sitting down next to Hawkeye. Marcel had two bottles of beer in her hands and she handed one to Hawkeye. "Thinking about something, aren't you?" Marcel asked, handing Hawkeye a bottle opener.

Hawkeye nodded.

"Well alright. It's the same old dilemma, right?"

Hawkeye sighed. "Yeah…"

Marcel shook her head. "I don't know what's up with you about this. I don't know why you keep following that alchemist around like you do."

Hawkeye sighed again.

"You don't really know either, huh?"

"Julia, I just don't know about anything like this anymore…"

"But, what's so great about Mustang anyway?"

"Julia, look… I… I just don't know where I am with any of this…"

Marcel laughed once. "The rest of us do. You're sitting here, with two options ahead of you. Mustang and Mordecai. Which you gonna choose is the only question."

Hawkeye didn't respond. Light Infantry people just plain thought differently than other people. They went straight for the jugular. Hawkeye knew that's what the question was, but she buried it within herself.

Before anyone could say anything else, Beef came around the corner like a comet. "Hawkeye!" he yelled, "You sober 'nuff ta shoot straight?"

Hawkeye glared back. "I've had half a beer. I'll shoot just fine."

Beef grinned. "Great! 'Cuz we're gonna need it!"

"Why?"

"We just found out where Rudo's hidin' out!" Beef was beaming.

Hawkeye was on her feet in an instant, sprinting off to get her rifle. Marcel sat there, finishing off both their beers, chuckling to herself as Beef darted off after Hawkeye.

"Oh, shit," she laughed.


	25. Chapter 25

**Chapter Twenty Five: …The Dogs Will Play**

_Disclaimer: A-E-I-O-U! I do not own what is not mine! U-O-I-E-A!_

They'd found him.

Rudo had been a supremely elusive man for the last year, never staying in one place long enough to leave any scent worth following. But Mordecai was a supremely determined hunter. Day after day, Mordecai had prayed for this; the chance to stick the pig and bleed Rudo like the bastard he is.

Over the years, Rudo had developed a vast array of hideaways and safehouses throughout the area. The majority of them were cabins hidden in the hinterlands, farmhouses in various states of abandonment, and other similar secretive hidey-holes. Rudo lived a life of constant motion, always running, always looking over his shoulder for Mordecai and his troopers. With rebellion underway, Rudo had gotten sloppy. He had decided to take advantage of what he saw as the military's preoccupation with the insurgency to indulge a bit in the finer points of life. He was staying at a retired, wealthy merchant's villa in the hills west of the city, as a guest of honor no less.

Somehow, word of Rudo's presence made it to the military, and Mordecai went at it like a wolf. He took only five other troopers with him; Beef, Dio, Z, Hawkeye, and Havoc. Mustang had ordered Havoc accompany Mordecai on any and all excursions outside the base.

They reached the villa around midnight, after two hours of stealthy-as-hell travel in a jet-black jeep specially designed for the less-respectable type operations the Light Infantry frequently undertook. They hid the jeep about half a mile from the villa and snuck in the rest of the way on foot. Mordecai left Havoc to 'guard the jeep.'

When Mordecai caught sight of the villa, he grinned half a sadistic, brutal grin centered off his incisor. He could see Rudo. Rudo and the owner of the Villa were next to each other, strolling slowly around the villa's open-air patio. A half-dozen of Rudo's guards trailed the two men.

"Beef, Z; on me. Dio; set up yer chopper right here. Hawk, setup wherever looks good to you. Once I grab Rudo, you guys just light this place up once they come out."

Mordecai and his two men ghosted into the shadows, rapidly closing distance on the villa. Hawkeye settled into a nook between a tree and a rock. She was about two hundred yards from the villa. She could have taken Rudo's head off without difficulty any day of the week from here, but Mordecai wanted him alive. She saw movement downrange and refocused. Z and Beef burst from the shadows and opened up on Rudo's guards, cutting through the lot of them in seconds with their submachine guns. Mordecai was right behind them. He had his shotgun and put a blast into the villa owner's chest from an arm's length away. He next swung the gun around, clocking Rudo across the temple before the man could react. Rudo fell to the floor. Mordecai began punching him in the head until he was certain the bastard was out cold. He lifted the man onto his shoulders and disappeared back into the woods, Z and Beef right behind him.

This had woken up the whole villa. About twenty armed men stormed out onto the patio. Dio let rip with his machine gun. As Dio raked them over, Hawkeye began shooting out the lights around the patio. Six shots later, it was plunged into darkness. Dio stopped shooting to reload and Hawkeye shot down two more men she saw moving in the windows. For fear of machine guns, snipers, and the dark, the men in the villa got the hell out of sight.

Mordecai and his crew ran by, not breaking stride. Hawkeye and Dio vacated their position to follow. They scrambled to the jeep, yelling as they ran to let Havoc know they were coming. They didn't want to spook the man and get shot at.

They got to the jeep as fast as they could. Havoc, hearing them yell, fired up the vehicle to expedite their escape. Mordecai made a mental note of that, surprised Havoc would take the initiative like that. Mordecai threw the unconscious Rudo into the back of the jeep. "Tie 'em up!" Havoc and Dio pounced on the man, pulling ropes out of the equipment boxes and roughly strapping Rudo's arms together behind his back.

Mordecai grabbed Dio's machine gun as Beef leapt into the driver's seat. Beef was the best driver here. With everyone aboard, Beef gunned it. The jeep leapt out of the thicket they'd hidden it in and onto a little-used dirt road. Beef avoided the main roads, taking a longer, but stealthier route back to base.

As they pulled in, Rudo began to stir, squirming about. He was face down and couldn't tell what was going on. Dio had his boot on the man's back and wouldn't let him roll over. "Who are you?" Rudo kept yelling.

Mordecai brushed Dio's boot aside and rolled Rudo over. "Hello, shithead!" Mordecai growled, grinning.

Rudo's face turned white. "Oh, shit…"


	26. Chapter 26

**Chapter Twenty Six: Now, I Bring Hell**

_Disclaimer: FMA + me owning it DOES NOT COMPUTE!!_

Mustang returned four days later, bringing with him a full division of regular military infantry. He had news for the base. He thought it was good news, well, for _him_ it was at least. "Where's Mordecai?" he barked at Major Corvin Caine as the large, ruddy man strolled by, paying Mustang and the new soldiers no heed until the Alchemist yelled at him.

Corvin turned. He was grinning. Mustang didn't like the grin; it was sick, sadistic, and mean. "Well," Corvin said, "Sad ta report, sir, but yer a little too late. Th' festivities 'ere on base are over."

Mustang didn't like Corvin when Corvin was being straightforward. He liked a cryptic Corvin even less. "What do you mean, Major?"

"Rudo finally kicked it today. Never woulda guessed th' fucker'd be as tough as he proved ta be!"

"Be clear and concise, Major!"

Corvin grinned even wider. "Ta be honest, we took Tabor Rudo prisoner the night you left. Since then, Mordecai really been pourin' th' heat on! I mean, when he ain't out there, killin' whatever th' fuck he finds, he's been over in th' garage. That's where we been keepin' Rudo."

Mustang was confused. "Why would you keep a prisoner in the garage?"

Corvin grinned fit to tear apart his face. "'Cuz it's easier ta _torture_ someone in a garage! Ain't yer daddy never taught ya _that_!?"

Mustang was shocked. Corvin walked away, laughing, roaring.

Mustang moved quickly, near-running to the garage. He saw the doors of one of the big vehicle garages were open and he made to enter through there. He made it to the door and stopped dead in his tracks.

The garage was a big building, easily the equivalent of a three or four story apartment building. What Mustang found inside was downright terrifying.

Mustang heard someone laugh and tore his eyes away from the horrible thing in the center of the room. It was Mordecai. Mordecai looked different, it was like Mustang had left the man alone and Mordecai had undergone some sort of brutal metamorphosis. When Mustang left he thought Mordecai was a jackass with an authority problem and anger-management difficulties. Now he thought Mordecai may well be the Devil himself.

Mordecai had taken its hair out of the dozens of braids it had been in and had it behind his head in a ponytail. He had also shed his green shell jacket and was wearing a tight black sleeveless t-shirt. There was blood splattered all over the man, even the cigarette burning between his teeth was covered in red. There was a chainsaw hanging from his right hand. It too was covered in blood.

"Why, hello, Colonel!" Mordecai said, sounding predatory. "And how're ya doin' on this _fine_ afternoon, eh?"

"L- Lt- Lt Col… what happened here?"

"Justice happened here!" someone shouted from the side of the garage. Mustang turned and saw something that scared him even more than Mordecai did. Lt Hawkeye was sitting on a tool bench, along with a group of other soldiers. Havoc was there too. Hawkeye too had discarded her jacket, wearing only boots, Light Infantry green pants, and a standard-issue black t-shirt. She was wiping blood off her arms and face with a towel.

Mordecai ambled up to Mustang and proffered him the chainsaw. "You wanna have a go?"

"What was this, Mordecai?" Mustang whispered, afraid to raise his voice any higher. "Was this an interrogation?"

Mordecai laughed. "The first hour of it was interrogation. This little shit here, he sang in a second! Gave up everything he knew five times over! What you're lookin' at here, Mustang… this is _hell on earth_."

"Why?" Mustang asked. He couldn't believe this.

"Because…" Mordecai said. "Because we just wanted to inflict as much pain as possible on this motherfucker over th' longest time possible. So we did." There was a pause. 'He's dead now, if ya can't tell."

'I can tell he's dead!" Mustang roared. "Look at him!"

"Yeah, we did a damn fine job o' this, di'n't we?" There was another pause. "Don't worry, though. We didn't get carried away or nothin'. We spent most of the last four days actin' on th' information he gave us. Ya know, huntin' down his ammo dumps, trainin' camps, bases, his chain o' command, stuff like that." There was one more pause. "Jus' so ya know, we took the arms an' th' head off after he was dead."

"WHY!?" Mustang roared next. This was insane.

"Well, we di'n't think o' usin' th' chainsaw until right after he died…"

Mustang wheeled on Mordecai. "WHY THE HELL WOULD YOU CHAINSAW A PERSON!? WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU!? WHAT KIND OF SADISTIC COMPLEX DO YOU HAVE TO DEVELOP TO WANT TO USE A _CHAINSAW _ON A _PERSON_!?"

Mordecai shrugged. "Actually, it wasn't my idea."

Mustang glared at Mordecai. "Who the fuck's was it then?"

"It was mine."

Mustang turned. "Y- yours?" he asked.

"Yep," Lt Hawkeye replied.

Mustang looked at Hawkeye and Havoc. They looked different too, Havoc was even wearing a Light Infantry uniform. They looked… violent, evil, like somehow Mordecai had infected them with the savage, primal brutality that coursed through the man's veins like blood. Mustang was terrified.

There was a shout from outside. "Col. Mustang! Col Mustang!" It was Cain Feury. "Lt General Moss wants to speak with you!" Then Feury came round the corner and into the doorway.

He stopped dead, just like Mustang had.

Then Cain Feury did something no one could remember him ever doing before.

He swore.

"Oh, shit."


	27. Chapter 27

**Chapter Twenty Seven: O'Malley**

_Disclaimer: You think I own FMA? PUNY HUMAN! Author smash!_

Mustang was not happy. He had thought he had managed to ensure that a chain of events would occur that would put Mustang in a situation he could actually enjoy. When he came to Central, he managed to broker a deal with high command. They agreed to move a new, division-sized unit into Vyronas to crush the uprising. Mustang understood that the new unit would take over operations in and around Vyronas and that Mustang would be transferred back to his old post in Central.

Unfortunately, a few things happened that Mustang didn't see coming. When the new division went in, Mustang thought only he and his original staff would be transferred out, leaving the garrison units (and Lt Col Mordecai) in Vyronas. It didn't work that way. The regular infantry stayed, but the 7th Light Infantry Combat Battalion got transferred out too, following Mustang to Central City. Due to a massive clerical error, the ENTIRE Battalion had been reassigned to Mustang's old post. This was a problem. (Corvin Caine observed so within moments of arriving at Central, stating it would be extremely difficult to fit the entire battalion in one office. Mustang was not amused.)

Mustang resolved to return to high command. On his way there, however, luck really socked him in the face. He ran into Cassius O'Malley, a solid, stocky four-star general and overall commander of all Amestrian Special Forces, which included the Light Infantry.

"Colonel Mustang! Have I got good news for you!" O'Malley shouted when he saw Mustang in the corridor. Mustang winced. He was mere yards away from the high command's front office. All he had to do was get in there and schedule a hearing with the command board. Unfortunately, O'Malley bared his path. "I've been meaning to thank you for moving the 7th Light Battalion out of that goddamn backwater positing!"

"Um… You're welcome, sir. I'm glad you appreciate it."

"You can bet I do! As I'm sure you know, there are four regiments of Light Infantry in our military; each comprising of three battalions. Now, here's the problem…"

Mustang winced slightly. This was going to take a while.

"Our military completely lacks any form of heavy assault infantry. That fact was made painfully aware to us three years ago during the storming of Carsola and the fighting around Sabello. As you know, Carsola and Sabello are heavily fortified cities on the border with the nation of Areugo to the south of us. Three years ago we got into a… bit of a sparring match with them and tried to take those cities for our own. Why we tried this is neither here nor there, but let me tell you… we failed something awful. Our forces were stopped cold by the immense trench system around Sabello and simply bogged down. Meanwhile, Carsola was a full blown disaster! We never let it go public, for obvious reasons. You see, Colonel, Carsola is protected by a very extensive series of fortifications. While we were able to affect a breach in their defenses, it took six separate attempts to get through, and after that our forces were decimated once they pushed into the city itself. You see, we lacked any units that could undertake such an operation. That's why I've been pressing high command to let me form a unit of Heavy Infantry for such operations. And my thanks are to you! After all, you've given me the perfect opportunity to create such a unit!"

Mustang didn't follow very well. When O'Malley said 'heavy infantry' all Mustang could think of was a unit comprised entirely of the overweight. "What do you mean by 'heavy infantry,' sir?"

O'Malley grinned. "Stormtroopers. Shock Troops. Grenadiers. Call them what you will. I mean a large unit of very heavily armed and armored soldiers equipped for close range operations. I mean a unit who can take a punch straight in the face and deliver it back tenfold! You know your alchemist friend Armstrong? Imagine him as an infantry unit."

Mustang nodded at that last remark. The idea of Heavy Infantry seemed formidable enough. There was just one thing Mustang was unsure of. "How did I give you the chance to create this unit, sir?"

O'Malley grinned some more. "High command has given me permission to reform the Third and Fourth Light Infantry Regiments as Heavy Infantry once they become available. The 8th and 9th Light Battalions have been held on reserve for months while I waited for Central to move the 7th out of Vyronas. Thankfully, you came along and kicked them along for me! As of today, the Third Light Infantry Regiment, which consists of the 7th, 8th, and 9th Light Battalions, you remember, will begin a eight-month long retraining, refitting, and general beefing-up process to turn them into the First Heavy Infantry Regiment, which will consist of the 1st, 2nd, and 3rd Heavy Battalions which of course will be the new identification of the 7th, 8th, and 9th Light Battalions respectively once the process is complete!" O'Malley liked to talk.

'Uh… You're welcome, sir. But, pardon me, I don't understand how this is good news for me."

"The good news is completely unrelated to this. I just wanted to thank you before I forgot."

Mustang nodded and waited for O'Malley to go on as he knew the general always did.

"Allow me the first to congratulate you on your promotion to Brigadier General and your new post as Assistant Public Relations Officer for the Amestrian Military!"

Mustang smiled. He'd wanted to be a general for as long as he could remember and had always had an eye on the Public Relations Office. It was a cushy, easy job with a high public profile. In all honesty, Mustang was cut out for it. He thanked O'Malley profusely.

O'Malley accepted profusely. After ten solid minutes of profusion, O'Malley called an aide out of a nearby office and told the man to fetch Mustang's reassignment papers. Within minutes, Mustang was strolling to his new office on the west side of Central HQ when something he saw in the orders stopped him cold.

Included in the papers was a documentation of recent changes to his old command, the 7th Light Battalion (soon to be the 1st Heavy Battalion). He saw the Mordecai had been given command of the 1st Heavy Regiment as a whole and a promotion to Brigadier General. Moreover, Corvin Caine was promoted to Colonel and given Command of the 1st Heavy Battalion (what used to be the 7th Light.) He saw the name 'Anton Diotlas' being promoted to Major and given command of the Company formerly under command of now-Colonel Caine. But none of that was of any concern to Mustang. What really shocked him were the names listed as Brigadier General Mordecai's aide-de-camps;

"Lieutenant Colonel Riza Hawkeye"

"Major Jean Havoc"

Mustang could not believe it. "Oh, shit."

Don't flame me for this, I'm going somewhere with it. I'm making Mustang suffer because his character is so much more compelling when things are going wrong for him. (Kinda like O'Brien from Deep Space Nine…) But don't ye worry, ye fanchildren hordes! Brigadier General Mustang's gonna formulate himself a plan!


	28. Chapter 28

**Chapter Twenty Eight: Liar**

_Disclaimer: I don't own FMA. If I ever do, I'll throw you all a parade._

Mustang stood there for a minute, staring at the orders. He noticed a small slip paper clipped to the offending sheet. It said something about 'excessive administrative personnel.' Mustang hurriedly unclipped the slip, almost spilling the whole report in the process.

It read; "Conversion of 7th Light to 1st Heavy underway. In transition from garrison unit to combat unit, it was discovered that personnel trained and assigned to administrative duty were no longer necessary. The following officers shall be transferred to the personal staff of Brigadier General Mustang-

- Falman, V.

- Breda, H.

- Feury, C."

Mustang sighed. At least he still had these three. That was good, but Havoc and Hawkeye…

Mustang turned and headed the other way, walking through hallway after hallway, picking up pace as he went. He was heading for his old office. He turned through the doorway and found it empty save for one man.

"Hughes!"

Hughes turned. "I was looking for you; I heard about the orders…"

Mustang sighed and dropped his pack of orders on an empty desk. He sat down. "Here they are."

Hughes nodded. "I already read them. Mordecai brought them to me."

Mustang looked up. "Mordecai?"

Hughes nodded. "He wanted to know if I knew anything about them."

"What did you tell him?"

"Everything I knew 'bout 'em. I told him that General O'Malley wanted to create a special unit of shock troopers for a long time and that the General always planned on using the Light Infantry as the base for that unit."

"Did Mordecai know anything about the orders?" Mustang asked.

"You mean you want to know if Mordecai's somehow behind the fact Hawkeye's on his staff and not yours." Hughes asked; Mustang looked away. "Well, he's not. He didn't know this was coming any more than you did"

There was some silence.

"You're angry about losing them." Hughes said.

Mustang looked away again, out the window. "Yeah."

"What're you gonna do now?"

"I don't know…"

There was some more silence.

"This is your own fault, Roy."

Mustang looked at Hughes. Mustang shook his head, got up, and walked away.

Hughes sighed. He watched Mustang go. He shook his head too. This was Mustang's problem. He didn't admit things. He didn't fear shame or guilt, but he was so afraid of admit things to himself. Mustang dealt with problems by burying them. He hid what was difficult and kept this persona of his maintained by outward indifference. Hughes always wanted to get Mustang examined by a psychologist he knew, but he knew Mustang would never agree to it.

Hughes got up and walked to the window. He wasn't thinking about Mustang now. He was thinking about Riza. She didn't know how captivating she really was. Or maybe she did know and just refused to admit it.

Hughes sighed again, turning his eyes skyward. This was their curse. They all hurt themselves because of this. The things that would be difficult to admit, they buried. No one wanted to say it aloud, and if they only admitted it to themselves, then keeping it silent would be a lie. So they buried whatever they didn't want to admit, and they let the acid from it burn away until it was far too late to do anything. They lied to themselves, hoping that lie would make what they expressed to others truth. But a truth founded in a lie isn't any better than a lie itself. Perhaps it was worse. An open lie is at least an honest lie.

Hughes shook his head one last time and walked away. He walked heavily, downcast back to his office. He was thinking about Ishbal, about lying, and about Riza. He got to his office and begun drowning his sorrows in paperwork and investigative reports.

He glanced over at couple of the pictures he kept by the side of his desk. One of the pictures was of him and Hawkeye, back before Ishbal. The one next to it was one of him and his wife at their wedding.

Hughes put his head in his hands and started thinking about lying again. He whispered to himself: "Oh, shit…"


	29. Chapter 29

**Chapter Twenty Nine: Bad Guys Wear Black**

_Disclaimer: Own FMA I do not. Own Yoda neither do I._

They were training.

The newly formed 1st Heavy Infantry Regiment was undergoing a grueling rebirth. They'd moved into Camp Carlyle, a military training base. The transition from Light Infantry to Heavy Infantry was not proving to be a smooth one.

Light Infantry and Heavy Infantry are fundamentally different. Light Infantry units rely on speed, aggression, mobility, and precession to hit their targets as hard as they can before fading away. They excel in what is called 'low-intensity operations,' which means quick fights with relatively low numbers of troops involved; counter-insurgency, commando tactics, stuff like that. Heavy Infantry was the complete opposite. They fight big, crushing battles. They don't hit-and-run, they hit-and-take-a-hit-then-hit-back. Lights can use surprise. Heavies can't. Heavy units exist for close-range brutal combat; storming trenches and defensive positions, fighting through cities. They unit was going from a light-and-fast commando-type unit to a heavy-and-brutal unit of shock troopers. They were going from scalpel to sledgehammer.

"Hey, Boss," Havoc said to Corvin, seated across the table from him in the base mess hall. "I got a question."

"Let's 'ear it," Corvin said through a mouthful of cornbread.

"Why'd they decide to reform our unit into Heavy Infantry? Why didn't they just create one out of new soldiers from the next conscription drive?"

Corvin nodded. "Good question there." Corvin realized he had underestimated Havoc at first, but the kid had come a long way from getting knocked out by Tank. He was learning and, more importantly, asking questions. Havoc was turning into a promising young officer. Corvin took a swig from his drink and cleared his throat before he began to speak.

"I asked O'Malley th' same question when I 'eard 'bout this whole plan. He gave me a few reasons that explained th' decision ta me:

1. We, as a unit, have extensive combat experience. You wouldn't have that in a freshly raised force.

2. We have learned how to operate without a highly defined and rigid central command structure. I mean, when we were Lights, we never needed a tight command structure cuz most of our actions were platoon size or smaller. For us, operatin' at Company size was a _big fuckin' deal_! An' that'll be important fer operations as Heavies, cuz we'll be fightin' in trenches, in defensive systems, in forts, an' in cities. We'll be in situations that won't allow fer a highly rigid and stratified command system. Every unit has to be able to operate on its own, an' you can't teach that. We've learned it, but no amount o' trainin' will teach that.

3. O'Malley didn't want to create a fresh unit because the Heavy Infantry is his project. He was worried if'n he formed th' unit fresh that th' regular army would try ta take control o' his project. O'Malley wanted to use us cuz we're under his control pretty much so O'Malley can make sure no one from the regular army dicks up what he's tryin' ta do here.

He gave me some other reasons too, but these 'ere are th' big ones."

"Ah," Havoc said. "Why'd he add all the new soldiers?"

Corvin nodded. "The Light Infantry never was a big unit. We never had ta be. Problem is, Heavy Infantry has ta be. When we got transferred back ta Central, our strength was 'bout little over 600 troopers in th' battalion. Combined with th' other two battalions, we came, as a Regiment, ta 'bout 2,000 fightin' men. We need ta be bigger, so we can really take a hit. We're gonna be a heartbreak unit, Havoc."

What they were talking about was one of the big issues in the transition. O'Malley wanted, needed, the unit to be bigger. He ordered Mordecai to increase unit size to 4,000 strong and allowed Mordecai to employ O'Malley's full four-star authority to do so. Mordecai went about cannibalizing infantry units who had distinguished themselves in combat, especially going after units that had seen significant action in the recent border dispute with Creata to the west. He began tearing through the units, eventually choosing well over 5,000 men from the units. Mordecai proceeded to whittle them down, putting them through the toughest array of tests he, Corvin, and Hawkeye could devise. Eventually, Mordecai got their number down to about 2,000 and he mixed the new men in with the old guard. Mordecai was careful not to create two divided camps within the unit by mixing the two groups together. Each squad consisted of a roughly half-and-half mixture of ex-Light Infantry soldiers and the new blood Mordecai brought in. Mordecai was doing a lot to create a unified force, not only in a military sense but in a mental and emotional sense.

Havoc, who'd been distracted by a number of female soldiers across the mess hall snapped his attention back to Corvin at the ruddy man's last line. "A 'heartbreak unit?'"

Corvin nodded slowly, ominously. "Aye. I tell ya right now, lad, sumthin' big is gonna 'appen soon 'nuff. An' when it does, we'll be part o' it. An' a lotta th'se soldiers… they'll be goin' home in coffins. Th' Brass is plannin' sumthin' right big, an' if'n it is whot I think it is, th'n we, the First Heavy Infantry Regiment, are gonna really feel the meat grinder."

Havoc didn't look very happy after that, but he kept eating.

Later, after dinner, Mordecai called a meeting of all the Company and Battalion commanders in his temporary office. He had news for them.

"As you may know, I spoke with O'Malley last week," Mordecai said, "about th' uniforms."

The assembled soldiers nodded. There had been some controversy over whether or not they, as a unit, were going to continue wearing the Light Infantry Forest Green fatigues. Mordecai himself was particularly opposed to the idea, although no one wanted to start (or continue) wearing blue. At this time, each soldier was wearing whatever uniform he had with him; which meant ex-Lights were still in green, while the 'new' men still wore standard blue.

Mordecai went on. "O'Malley agreed with me th't we cannot keep wearin' th' Green uniforms. Green is the color of th' Light Infantry, and we ain't Light Infantry anymore. We are a separate unit completely. But, I made damn clear, we will not put th' blue back on. We are th' sledgehammer of th' military. We are elite."

Mordecai paused to let that sink in.

"We will not be wearin' Green anymore, and we ain't gonna be blue anymore, neither. General O'Malley ordered th' Equipment and Supply Departments to provide us with new uniforms, 'specially made for th' Heavy Infantry only."

Mordecai turned to the desk behind him. There was a tarp covering the desk, although it was clearly visible something was piled under the tarp. Mordecai pulled the tarp off and threw it to the side.

"_These_ are th' new uniforms of th' 1st Heavy Regiment!"

The new uniforms were met with great approval. They were like the standard uniform, but all the bells and whistles were done away with, so the gold cord around the shoulder, the array of minor awards on the left breast, and any other useless shiny-type bits were gone, leaving only a functional and direct uniform; which reflected well on the role of Heavy Infantry. More important than the effects was the color. The new uniforms were black with a deep, dark grey trim. They looked badass. It took a while for the officer corps to get over the way their new uniforms made them look. Corvin said they will look like 'death incarnate.' Dio said they'll look 'like the bunch of badass motherfuckers we are!' Once everyone had gotten past the initial impression of their new uniforms, Mordecai described another feature of the new duds; new boots, which were lighter, more comfortable, more waterproof, more flexible, and offered better support for the ankle than those 'stupid-ass riding-type boots' that the regular army wore. Boots are really important, because if your feet get fucked up, you become pretty much useless.

Soon there came a knock on the door and Beef, recently promoted to Major, came in. He was late.

"Hey, Beef!" Dio yelled, holding up one of the new shell jackets. "Check out the new gear! Pretty fuckin' badass, eh?"

Beef grinned, laughing. "Oh, shit…"


	30. Chapter 30

**Chapter Thirty: Sittin' At The Bar**

_Disclaimer: I do not own FMA. (No shit.)_

Mustang's new job had paid off excellently.

Public Relations meant it was Mustang's job to maintain the reputation of the military in the public eye. As the first Assistant to Jared Toll, the middle-aged two-star general in charge of Public Relations, Mustang found himself doing a lot of public appearances. This suited him well. Mustang was charismatic, good-looking, and an excellent speaker. His service in Ishbal gave him the credibility and his charisma gave him the presence. Mustang loved his new job… well; he loved it as much as he could given the loss of Havoc and Hawkeye.

Mustang had spent the last few months traveling extensively, giving near-daily speeches as part of a massive recruiting drive. Throughout this nation-wide odyssey, Mustang found himself stumbling deeper and deeper into a private depression. He hid it well, but still turned to the officer's two traditional coping mechanisms; alcohol and sex.

Everywhere Mustang went he was accompanied by a team of thirty men, headed by Feury, Falman, and Breda, who each ran a ten-man team assigned to Mustang. They spent a lot of time hauling a shitfaced Mustang out of bars or waiting for a hungover Mustang to stumble out of a room at an inn or motel or wherever. This went on for several months with increasing severity before fate threw Mustang a bone.

Mustang was assigned to interview General O'Malley for a large newspaper article about the newly formed 1st Heavy Infantry Regiment. The interview was cookie-cutter; Mustang asked from a list of predetermined questions and O'Malley responded with predetermined answers. The interview ended with Mustang thanking the General for taking the initiative to form such a unit and said that the people of Amestris should be grateful that the General had created this unit to better protect them.

The interview was nothing special, but after it was over, Mustang struck up a conversation with O'Malley about the Heavy Infantry. O'Malley was visibly pleased by Mustang's interest in the unit. The General apologized that he'd have to cut their conversation short, but he agreed to meet Mustang for drinks and a continued conversation after their work hours ended. The pair parted ways. Mustang was smiling.

Later, Mustang walked over to the bar two blocks over where he had agreed to meet O'Malley. Hughes tagged along, eager to talk with the General and with Mustang. Hughes started talking to the later before they were even at the bar.

"So, why the sudden interest in the Heavy Infantry, Roy?"

"They're a unique and highly elite unit and I look forward to what they can accomplish for our nation."

"Bullshit."

"Oh, really?"

"You're just using O'Malley to try get back to Jean and Riza."

Mustang sighed. "Yeah."

They entered the bar. It was a very military-esque establishment, catering to off-duty officers from Central Headquarters. It was warmly built, with heavy dark maple paneling and deep greens and reds used alongside gold accents. It was an old school officers' bar.

Mustang and Roy took up positions at the bar, perched on high set barstools, leaving one open between them for O'Malley. Mustang ordered expensive small batch bourbon. Hughes ordered Jack Daniel's.

"Can't understand how you can drink that stuff, Maes."

"It's a damn fine whiskey. I've been drinkin' it since Ishbal."

"Please, Maes, remember to put the 'g' on the end of your words. You're starting to remind me of Mordecai."

Hughes chuckled a bit. Mordecai was the person who introduced Hughes to Mr. Jack Daniel's fine No. 7. Mustang didn't know that, though.

General O'Malley joined them shortly, taking up the middle stool. He was laughing.

"Dare I ask what's so funny, sir?" Mustang ventured, cracking a smile of his own.

"I just got through with Lt General Geiger, head of the Experimental Weapons Department. It appears that, well, Brigadier General Mordecai has moved the entire E.W. Department from its home at Camp Yves to Camp Carlyle, where the 1st Heavy's training!"

Mustang and Hughes looked at each other.

"Who could he do that, sir?" Hughes asked.

"Well, I gave Mordecai the right to employ _my_ full authority in regards to the formation of the 1st Heavy. You see, the 1st Light Regiment was half the size I want the 1st Heavy to be, so I gave Mordecai my authority to help him beef up the unit. He wanted only distinguished combat veterans and my authority allowed him to make sure he got what his unit needed. I never expected him to use my authority to do something like this!" O'Malley kept smiling.

"Aren't you angry at all?" Mustang asked.

"Angry? Why would I be angry? This is exactly the reason I wanted Mordecai running this unit! He goes for the jugular in everything he does. I called him when Geiger came into my office yelling about the whole mess. Mordecai explained to me that Heavy Infantry needs the capability to knock their way through heavily defended enemy positions, a capability all our other infantry units lack. He had the E.W. units move to his location because he wanted them to help develop weapons that would suit the applications Heavy Infantry needs."

Mustang nodded. Hughes ordered a drink for the General.

The conversation ran for another hour, with Mustang expressing great interest in the progress the Heavy Infantry was making in its retraining. Eventually, O'Malley asked Mustang where this sudden interest had come from.

"Well, sir, my past service with the Light Infantry illustrated to me the benefit of having elite specialty troops at the military's disposal. Based on the research I did into the latest conflict with Areugo, it's clear to me that we, as a nation, need an elite force like the Heavy Infantry. I want to make sure the job is done to the best it can be done."

O'Malley smiled and laughed and thumped a meaty hand across Mustang's back. Hughes smiled too, but he kept it secret to himself. He always thought Mustang should have been an actor.

"You know what, Mustang? In two weeks I'm going to pay Mordecai a visit. I want to see for myself exactly how things are going up there at Carlyle. Would you have any interest in coming along?"

Mustang heartily and readily accepted.

Hughes turned back to his drink. Whispering two words under his breath so quiet no one but him ever heard them; "Oh shit."

(Hey! I'd just like to take a moment to thank you all for reading this fic. When I started, I never would have thought I'd make it this far, but the support and interest you guys have shown has really kept this thing going, and I can't thank you enough for that. Plenty more chapters are on the way, so don't worry, I ain't taking a break! I got too many ideas right now to even think of that! Thanks for all you support so far, but there's still plenty more to write…)


	31. Chapter 31

**Chapter Thirty One: Dreaming in Dog Years, Part 1**

_Disclaimer: I do not own FMA. Nor do I own The Red Chord. Somebody please get it…_

(To celebrate the 30 Chapter mark, I'm going to try something different for the next few installments. I'll be providing a bit more of the back-story through a series of dreams and remembrances the major characters will be having about their earlier exploits and encounters with each other. If we want to understand the future when it comes, then we must understand the past that brought us here.)

Hawkeye was running. There were two men behind her in blue uniforms. Lt Mordecai was ahead, his shotgun slung across his back, out of ammo, his BAR in his hands. He was yelling.

"Corvin! Corvin where tha fuck are ya!" They didn't know where Corvin and his squad were.

They were running down an alley, buildings packed tight behind low walls on either side of them. It was Ishbal.

Hawkeye knew this wasn't good. What had started out as a basic arrest mission had taken a turn for the worst. Two six-man squads were supposed to go knock down a door, looking for a wanted insurgent Intel though was hiding out in his uncle's house. Instead they kicked the door down and found themselves face to face with a sizeable force of Ishbalan militia, who were just sitting down to a meal. In the ensuing running firefight, the two squads got separated. They still didn't know where Corvin's squad was and had also lost contact with one of their sniper teams, reducing their team to four. Now they were running through a city, outnumbered, outgunned, and in serious trouble.

Suddenly, a man jumped out of a door on the left side of the alley ahead of them. Their soldiers swung their weapons up, fingers on the triggers. But they did not shoot. They recognized the man. It was Cpl Saka, known to his friends as 'Beef.' He was one half of the missing sniper team.

"Fuckin' Hell!" Mordecai barked, "Don't fuckin' do that!"

"Sorry, boss, sorry!" Beef stammered quickly, "Shit, I'm glad I found you guys!"

"Where's Donner?" Hawkeye said. Donner was the sixth man in their squad; a slim, wild-haired redhead.

"Back this way!" Beef gasped, short of breath. He'd been sprinting and the hot, dry air was not conducive to such behavior. "Follow me!"

They went back through the gate, through a backyard, and into the back room of a butcher's shop. As they ran, Mordecai shouted for two of his men to clear the upstairs. They stormed up the staircase, submachine guns at the ready. Beef, Mordecai, and Hawkeye burst into the storefront from the back. The large window in front was boarded up but the door was long blown away. They could see Donner, crouched in the doorway of a similar shop across the street.

"Why the fuck did he cross the street!" Beef shouted, taking cover against the wall to the left.

"Donner!" Mordecai barked, half-crouched in the empty doorway, "Get over here!"

As Donner started to move, a sniper further down the road took a potshot at Mordecai. The bullet knicked Mordecai in the left arm just above the elbow. The soldier sprung away, jumping back into the shop. It was a superficial wound, nothing at all, Mordecai just wanted to get out of sight.

Donner saw the shooter though. He dropped to one knee in the middle of the road and took one shot.

"Got 'im!" he yelled, rising.

Then there was another shot. Donner took the bullet in the chest, dropping his rifle and falling hard on his back.

Hawkeye saw it happen. She recoiled as if the bullet had hit her as well.

Then she woke up screaming.

This caused a significant disturbance within the room, as the screaming awoke all seven of Hawkeye's roommates. The lights came on and the soldiers came out of their beds, their trained instincts kicking in.

Marcel, who occupied the bed above Hawkeye, took charge. Ordering the other six women to calm down, put their guns away, turn off the lights, and go back to bed. It was nothing, she said.

Slowly, adrenaline still hammering, the soldiers complied.

Hawkeye was crying.

Marcel pulled her friend out if the bunk and to her feet.

"C'mon, get up, let's go," whispered, leading Hawkeye out of the bunkroom and into the hallway. This wasn't good. Hawkeye was crying. This wasn't good.

In the few seconds it took to get out of the room and slowly draw shut the door, Hawkeye played the rest of the memory through in her head.

She remembered Mordecai and Beef firing out the door as the Ishbalan militia came storming out from a driveway further up the street. She remembered them ducking back into cover and screaming obscenities. She remembered firing her pistol blindly around the doorframe. She remembered Donner of his back in the middle of the street, arching his back, trying to roll over, blood bubbling out his mouth, still alive. His eyes on her.

She remembered two minutes in as many seconds. Donner pulling his own pistol and firing it twice in the direction of the enemy before his strength faded and he dropped the gun, defiant to the last. She remembered the rest of her squad screaming and firing. She remembered everyone yelling Donner's name, begging their friend to stay alive, begging him not to die. She remembered Corvin's squad arriving on the scene, drawn by the sounds of gunfire, slamming into the Ishbalans from behind them, cutting the enemy down in swift bursts of gunfire. She remembered running in the street, Mordecai two paces ahead, sliding to Donner's side like a baseball player. She remembered being the second one there. She remembered cradling Donner's head in her hands as Mordecai and Corvin frantically tried to do anything, pressing bandages on wounds that just wouldn't stop bleeding, but there was nothing they could do; the bullet had punched straight through Donner's left lung, and burst out his shoulder, maybe even tearing the man's heart in the process. She remembered Donner coughing up blood, managing to choke out one word with the last strength he had in his body. She remembered him saying her name. She remembered crying.

"Riza," Marcel asked, "what…"

Hawkeye looked up, making eye contact with her friend. "I had a dream…"

"About what?"

"Donner getting ki-" she couldn't say it. Even now, she couldn't say it.

Marcel hugged Hawkeye close, tears choking up, too. "Oh, god," Marcel whispered, "oh, shit."


	32. Chapter 32

**Chapter Thirty Two: Dreaming in Dog Years, Part 2**

_Disclaimer: Still don't own FMA or TRC. _

Mustang was walking down one of the corridors in Central HQ, when he passed a photo hanging on the wall. It was a picture of one of Mustang and one of his good friends back when they were in the Officer Academy; Carl Geiger Botch, General Geiger's nephew and son of Admiral Hieronymus Botch.

Carl had been a year ahead of Mustang at the Academy but the pair had been great friends. Carl used to joke that Mustang learned everything he knew about women from good ol' Carl Botch, which was pretty much true. Carl had graduated with a commission as a Major, much higher than the standard commission as a Lieutenant. Mustang served under Carl in Ishbal, although by that time his friend had risen to the rank of Colonel.

Carl Botch had died in Ishbal and had been posthumously promoted to Brigadier General.

Mustang looked at the picture, at their clean cadets' uniforms, at their smiling, eager faces, and thought back to the time when he saw Carl Botch die.

They had been ordered to take a hill and Botch had decided to take direct command of the operation himself. Mustang urged his friend not to go to the frontline, but Botch was determined to see the glory of war firsthand. Carl was of a long military line, men who made their names by planting flags on top of captured hills and fortresses and the like. He wanted that glory. Mustang decided to accompany his friend on the mission to see to it that Carl didn't do anything stupid, like pull out a sword and personally lead a bayonet charge or whatever.

The force they had consisted of a 500-man strong infantry company made up of five 100-man strong platoons. Carl had also brought with him two squads of Light Infantry and two sniper teams because that way it became a joint-operation and Mustang, who was the _de jure_ leader of the Light Infantry unit, would get credit for the operation too.

They came to the hill, a long, low, sharply-sloped escarpment maybe a quarter-mile in length. There were trees at the top and a few clusters of plants scattered along the slope. They were directly west of it. The northern end of the slope curved gently away, but the southern end was anchored by a low saddle leading to a small hill that dominated the slope. The soldiers took cover in the jagged, rocky, heavily-plant infested scrubland. There was a great open space between them and the base of the slope, fifty to seventy yards wide, the land at the base of the hill had been cleared and flattened and used to race horses by the Ishbalans. It was a killing field.

Mordecai didn't like it at all.

"This ain't good," he said, crouched next to Mustang and Botch in a ditch behind some thick bramble. "I don't like this."

"Calm down, Lt," Botch said. "It's fine, there's no trace of the enemy anywhere on that hill."

Mordecai shook his head. "I don't like it. They're up there, sir. Just cuz ya can't see 'em don't mean they ain't there."

Botch laughed. "Be serious, Lt. Are you suggesting the enemy is there, hidden?"

"Yah," Mordecai breathed, he was visibly nervous. "Exactly."

Mustang shook his head. "Bullshit."

Mordecai looked back at the hill. "They're up there. Even if they ain't, it'd pay to be cautious 'bout this. Let me and Sgt Caine each take a platoon around the flanks and clear it out from the sides."

Botch laughed again, angrily this time. "I don't know who you think I am, Lt, but neither I nor my men will stand for such an insult. We do not fight wars sneaking around like cowards! We meet our enemies face to face! We fight wars with honor and glory and pride! We will take this hill, _Lt_, the way any true warrior takes a hill! And if the enemy so happens to be up there, hiding as you say, then we shall drive the cowards out and chase them back to their dens!"

Mordecai glared at the Colonel, eyebrow twitching in anger. Mustang wondered if he was going to have to use his alchemy to restrain Mordecai.

Botch turned away. "First Platoon!" he roared, "Advance!"

First platoon, a full hundred men, rose from their cover and began moving forward, jogging across the open space. They had their bayonets fixed as they moved towards the hill. Botch had arrayed his forces with the first three platoons all set up in three lines parallel to the hill. He planned to send them at the hill as needed in a human wave type assault. Fourth and Fifth Platoons waited behind the first three to be applied as needed.

Botch watched as his men crossed the open field without incident, reaching the base of the hill almost as one, in parade-ground form, arrayed in a long line one man-deep, a hundred men-long. They began moving up the hill.

Mustang remembered seeing something move on top of the hill as First Platoon was about halfway up the slope. Mordecai must have seen it too because the tattooed soldier gritted his teeth and hissed one word; "Fuck."

The hill opened up. Machine guns and rifles being fired almost point blank into the advancing soldiers. Even worse, the crest of the hill to the south exploded to life, too, raining death into the soldiers from their exposed flank. The assault stopped dead in its tracks as soldiers scrambled for cover, diving behind pathetic bushes and gnarled tree-like growths as their comrades were blown away alongside them.

Botch was roaring. "Get up! Keep moving! Don't stop! If you stop you're dead!" Upon seeing most of First Platoon already was dead, Botch shifted his focus. "Second Platoon! Third Platoon! On your feet! Move forward! Fast as you can! Push them off that hill! Fourth and Fifth, array in line formation! Prepare to support Second and Third!"

Mordecai was next on his feet. Mustang watch as Mordecai lifted his BAR to his shoulder. "Colonel Botch!" Mordecai yelled.

The Colonel spun round to face Mordecai, already yelling for the Light Infantry to join the charge.

Mordecai shot the man through the heart from ten feet away.

"Sniper!" Mordecai yelled. "Sniper! Open fire! Suppress that hill!" Mordecai than began screaming at the infantry units in front of him. "Second and Third! Fall the fuck back! Fall back! Get outta th' open! Get outta th' open 'fore you all die!"

The infantry stalled, unsure what to do, half in and half out of cover.

"Botch is dead!" Mordecai roared "Get back inna cover or you will be too!"

Second and Third scrambled back out of the field, leaving several of their number lying in the open, victims of a stupid order.

"Fifth Platoon!" Mordecai yelled next, "Follow Sgt Caine 'round to th' right! Get 'round th't fuckin' hill an' get 'em off it 'fore they kill us all! Move! Fast as you can run!" The hill's machine guns were turning to fire on the soldiers still in cover. Corvin and his Light Infantry squad were already moving, Fifth Platoon scrambling to follow.

"Second and Third! Suppressing fire on the hill! Shoot back! We fight with guns now, not swords! Start shootin'! Hawkeye! Donner! Knock down th' machine gunners! Get th't fire off us! Fourth Platoon, move ta support Sgt Caine! Sprint! Get 'round th' flank an' roll 'em up! Kill 'em all!" Fourth Platoon took off.

Mordecai turned and grabbed a rifle from a wounded soldier. He tossed the weapon at Mustang. "Make yerself useful!" Mordecai barked. Mustang just pressed himself deeper into the ditch.

It took about a minute more for Corvin and his men to storm the hill and silence its machine guns. They kept moving, hitting the Ishbalans on their exposed flank, hurling grenades into foxholes and shooting the Ishbalans down who tried to flee. At that the Ishbalans stopped shooting, throwing down their guns and throwing up their hands. The soldiers didn't care. They still shot every last one of them dead anyway without pause or remorse.

Mustang never forgot that day. Roughly forty Ishbalan militants were killed, but over one hundred and fifty soldiers were killed or seriously wounded. The official report said Colonel Botch had been shot by a sniper after the assault stalled in the face of enemy fire. The report said Botch exposed himself to the foe as he bravely rallied his unit, stopping a near-rout and steeling his men's resolve before a sniper felled him. The report went on to say Lt Mordecai took overall command while Mustang (who was technically a superior officer to the Lt) attempted to provide first aid to his fallen commander. The report was signed with the following names:

"Major Roy Mustang"

"1st Lt Cooper Mordecai"

Mustang thought about how he felt when he signed that report. He looked the picture of his friend in the eyes for a second, but he could not hold the gaze.

He turned and walked away, head down with guilt he let two words slip out from his lips; "Oh, shit…"


	33. Chapter 33

**Chapter Thirty Three: Dreaming in Dog Years, Part 3**

_Disclaimer: I don't own what I don't own._

Hawkeye was seated at her desk in Camp Carlyle's main office. The office was shared by her, Havoc, and Mordecai, although the later two were not present. Mordecai had ordered Havoc to assist Corvin in overseeing the tests of the new grenade launchers the E.W. boys had cooked up. Mordecai himself was going through CQB drills with Major Calderon's Company in this week's plywood fortification complex. Hawkeye was left alone in the office, filling out reports on the level of supplies the unit needed day by day. She was the only one on base who actually took paperwork seriously. This was a unit of combat soldiers, asking any of them, especially Mordecai, to do paperwork was a fool's errand.

It had gotten hot over the last few months as summer kicked into gear late after a long, mild spring. Apparently the new season was making up for lost time with sharp intensity. The heat caused Hawkeye to discard her shell jacket, hanging it off the back of her chair, but still the temperature made it hard to focus on the paperwork and her mind began to wander.

Her mind eventually turned, unbidden, to the subject of her nightmare memory. She sighed. The loss of Donner was no easy subject, even now, years after the fact. The image of Corvin Caine running with Donner's body slung across his shoulders was forever etched in her mind.

Why Donner? It made no sense. She remembered the day she, Mustang, and Hughes first met 1st Lt Mordecai and his Light Infantry Platoon. She remembered how violent and savage they looked and acted, armed to the teeth. Feral, brutal, and downright mean sometimes. But not Donner.

There was something strange about him, something out of place amongst the violent troopers of the Light Infantry. Hawkeye remembered the first mission she went on with the Light Infantry. She and Donner were set up in a rocky outcropping as Mordecai and a squad of troopers snuck up on an enemy safehouse. Once Mordecai's group got as close as they could, Donner and Hawkeye would kill the guards and the other troopers would storm the building.

She remembered Donner slowly pressing the trigger back. She remembered him whispering "I'm sorry" right before the trigger clicked and he blew half a man's head away. Hawkeye killed the other guard a split second later and Mordecai and company blasted their way into and through the building, killing all inside before the enemy could even grab their guns.

That was made Donner special. He killed, just like any other soldier, but he felt every single death. They all lost their innocence when they put on the uniform, but only Donner could feel it missing.

It was because of Donner that she was introduced into the Light Infantry, and they accepted her as one of their own. Although it was never explicitly stated until a last hours of the operation, Hawkeye knew they wanted her to join the unit. And the more and more time she spent with them, or spent with Donner, the closer she got to the idea.

Then he got shot through the lung and heart and died, choking to death on his own blood.

Hawkeye turned and looked out the window. She remembered a few nights after Donner's death, when the unit had been rotated off the frontline and into a reserve camp to rest and resupply, when the Light Infantry guys had made a big bonfire. They were sitting around it, drinking, smoking, laughing. Hawkeye left the group; she couldn't stand it. She walked a short distance away, sitting down atop a low sandbagged bunker.

Then Mordecai came over to join her.

Mordecai confused Hawkeye then. He was the leader of this unit, a brilliant commander in his field, and a fierce, aggressive man with long hair, angry-looking beard, and extensive tattoos. His soldiers called him 'Death Wish,' although never to his face. Mordecai was insanely, incredibly reckless with his own life. Hawkeye didn't find out why until Corvin told her years later in Vyronas. Hawkeye remembered that she didn't hear Mordecai coming, just suddenly realized the man was seated next to her. He handed her a beer which she didn't bother to open.

They sat there in silence for a while. Hawkeye had been crying, but hadn't made a sound.

"Hawk…" he said, but couldn't find any words to follow with.

"Why him?" she asked.

"Cuz th' Man dialed his number."

"Fatalism."

Mordecai did not know what fatalism was, but he let it pass unchallenged. "Maybe."

Hawkeye shook his head. "Why him?"

"Why not?" Mordecai replied.

Hawkeye turned on the man, struck be the insensitivity of the remark, but she did not say anything. She was struck by the sadness she saw in Mordecai's eyes.

"He was th' best of us. We'll all miss him. But we're soldiers. We die, and a lotta times we leave a lotta bad stuff in th' wake of it all. I don't know what ta say. I just… ach… That bullet had Donner's name on it, but it di'n't have yours. Why're ya lettin' one bullet kill both of ya?"

Then he hugged her, and she cried.

Hawkeye leaned back in her chair. She shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts. Faces kept swimming into view in her mind's eye; faces of people from different stages of the past, and with them came memories, jumbled and simultaneous.

The door snapped open and she swept the reminiscence away. Mordecai walked in, covered in dirt.

"Hello, sir," Hawkeye said.

"Damnit, Hawk, why ya always gotta be so formal 'bout everythin'?" Mordecai said, grinning ear to ear, sitting himself down heavily on the edge of Hawkeye's desk. "We're too elite ta be serious!"

Hawkeye wanted to chastise him, about his attitude, his behavior, the dirt he was tracking everywhere, but she couldn't. She could only smile and mentally hold back laughter. "Whatever are we going to do with you, sir?"

Mordecai didn't answer right away, instead he leaned in close to Hawkeye, looking her in the eyes. "Heard 'bout th' dream."

Hawkeye sighed, looking away.

"Don't worry 'bout it," Mordecai said. "Corvin said it's prob'ly just cuz yer back with us again an' yer rememb'rin' stuff from Ishbal an' shit."

'_An' shit.'_ Hawkeye thought. _If only you knew how much 'shit' had been running through these thoughts._ Hawkeye blinked. "How did Corvin know about this?"

Mordecai looked around as if someone was spying on him. He leaned back close into Hawkeye, glancing over his shoulder as he did so. He put his arm around Hawkeye's shoulder, like what he was about to say was some grave secret. "Don't tell anyone this," he said, "but I'm thinkin' Corvin talks ta th' buildin's an' th' buildin's are tellin' him everythin' th't goes on inside 'em when he ain't aroun'!"

Hawkeye smiled and laughed. Mordecai drew her in closer and he smiled too, but he wasn't smiling at the idea of Corvin Caine talking with buildings. Then he kissed her.

Hawkeye wasn't expecting it, but didn't feel any surprise. She put her arms around his neck. She hadn't kissed anyone like this for a long time, but she wasn't thinking about that now.

Major Jean Havoc was in the hallway, returning to the office with Corvin's report on the grenade launcher tests. He overheard Mordecai's joke about Corvin talking with buildings and he smiled despite himself. _Corvin would_, Havoc thought, _if anyone here were communing with the walls it'd be Corvin._ Then Havoc peeked around the door.

Major Anton Diotlas rounded the corner and saw Havoc peering into the main office through the slightly opened door. "Smoke, what you doin'?"

Havoc gestured first for Dio to be quiet and then to come closer and take a look for himself. Sensing something was happening, Dio slid down the hallway, the absolute model of stealth. Havoc watched him every step of the way.

When Dio got close he whispered "What is it?"

Havoc nodded at the door. "Take a look."

They looked, peeking through the crack as one, only to find the ruby-brown eyes of Lt Col Hawkeye just inches away on the other side of the door.

Dio and Havoc leapt back in surprise, tripping over each other and themselves and toppling to the floor against the opposite side of the narrow hallway.

Hawkeye leaned out from behind the door, unsuccessfully trying to stifle a grin. "Is there something we can help you with?" she asked.

"Uh…" Havoc said, employing all his wit, "I have the report on the grenade launchers for Mordecai." Havoc lifted the report into the air. Hawkeye stepped out of the office and took the report from the soldier on the floor. "Thank you, Major," she said before stepping back into the office and shutting the door fully behind her.

"Hey," Dio said.

"Yeah," Havoc replied.

"Did you notice her hair was down?"

"Yeah, did you notice she didn't have her jacket on?"

"Yep."

There was a moment of silence as Havoc and Dio put 2 and 2 together. (They probably came up with 7 as their answer…)

Dio and Havoc looked at each other, smirking like they were in middle school, and whispered in unison "Oh, shit…!"

(Author's Note; Sorry about the wait guys, but that's what happens when you go to jail! Just want to say; I'm not dead, there are more chapters on the way. Just three points-

1. Just for clarity, Hawkeye and Havoc did not 'choose' the Heavy Infantry (or Mordecai) over Mustang's unit. They were assigned to the new unit. They had no say in the matter, and neither did Mustang or Mordecai. It's the military. Stop over-analyzing this.

2. Special thanks to Shadena for the MASSIVE WALL OF TEXT REVIEW. This review is what reminded me to get back to work on the fic.

3. The thing that really keeps me going on this fic is you guys. When I get a new review or a new favorite story alert it really makes me want to get back to work on the story. Please, tell your friends about this fic. Spread the word around a bit, please? I know this is a shameless plug, but the more readers I have the more I will post. I'll cut a deal; you guys try to get a few more people reading this fic and I'll try not to get arrested again!

-TMM!)


	34. Chapter 34

**Chapter Thirty Four: Dreaming in Dog Years, Part 4**

_Disclaimer: Witty statement about not owning FMA goes here!_

Mustang sighed and rose from his chair, walking to the window. Edward Elric had just come through here, raising some massive fuss about something or other somehow related to the Philosopher's Stone. Mustang eventually figured out Elric was angered by the fact someone else had checked a book on alchemy out of the State Alchemist's Library that the Elric Brothers were hoping to study. Mustang told the boy that it was not his personal library and other people had the right to read whatever book they chose whenever they chose and Ed should cease this inane complaint.

Mustang looked out his window; his new office overlooked the main courtyard of Central HQ, a much better position than his old office. He watched Edward cross the courtyard, heading for a pair of figures waiting in the shade of one of the trees. Mustang focused his eyes on the pair and saw who it was.

The big figure was clearly identifiable as Alphonse Elric, but it was the other individual who gave Mustang pause; he recognized her; Edward's mechanic and the childhood friend of the brothers, Winry Rockbell.

Mustang turned away, taking the few steps back to his chair before dropping himself heavily onto its support. He hated it when the Elrics called that girl to Central. He hated seeing her. He hated how she reminded him of the blood on his hands.

Mustang hated anything that reminded him of Ishbal. He hated the memories. He remembered when the focus of the conflict shifted from suppression to extermination and the alchemists were put into use large scale. He remembered when they were given the rings containing imperfect versions of the Stone. He remembered the power within those Stones, power that allowed Kimblee to detonate an entire village, gave Grande the power to transform into the equivalent of an artillery company, gave Armstrong the power to reduce anything to a massive crater, and gave him the power to incinerate an entire city block like he was lighting a match.

But that was nothing compared to a pair of killings Mustang saw as no less than outright murder; killings that still haunted Mustang's dreams to this day. He remembered two doctors, civilians, who had set up a hospital for those injured in the conflict, both military and Ishbalan. Mustang had no objections, but when it was discovered Ishbalan militants were going to the doctors for aid and were not only being treated but were allowed to return to their rebellion, the doctors were ordered to either turn over any Ishbalans they treated to the military or stop accepting Ishbalans all together. When they refused numerous such orders, Mustang was ordered to arrest them, and within the arrest warrant there was a paper giving Mustang the right to use lethal force if they resisted.

Mustang decided to take two men with him on his mission. He selected Lt Mordecai and a Private First Class named Diotlas, although he was referred to as 'Dio.' Mordecai and Dio were armed with shotguns and pistols. Mustang had forgotten his gloves and sidearm, so Mordecai got him a 9mm Browning pistol from another soldier. Mustang still remembered wanting to ask why Mordecai and Dio had .45 caliber Colts and he was given a Browning; the Colts were much more powerful than the Brownings, but he held his tongue.

Mordecai drove, their open-topped green-grey jeep cruising along across the desert towards the minor oasis village that the Rockbells had set up their operation, stopping in front of the building that was now the offending open-door hospital. Mustang and his two men got out and walked towards the door.

It all got very bad from there.

When presented with the warrant the Rockbells resisted, albeit calmly. They protested the position the military held in the matter and defended their neutrality, claiming to treat any and all who came to their door without care for their side in the conflict. The real problem was the Rockbells' two assistants, one Amestrian, one of local descent. They got very angry at the orders made by Mustang and looked ready to resist the demands with physical force, stepping forward, raising their fists, and adopting the stance of men about to fight.

Mustang raised a hand and ordered the men to back off. Ishbal was under martial law and therefore if they refused to follow the military's orders then they would be facing arrest. Mustang reminded them that all he was doing was carrying out orders and if they had any problems they should bring it up with the proper people, not just the first soldier they saw.

One of the assistants, the Ishbalan one, lunged forward at Mustang. Mordecai saw it first and grabbed Mustang by the collar from behind, pulling the alchemist out of the way. Mustang continued to stumble backwards, almost falling before Dio caught him under the arms. Mordecai, meanwhile, stepped forward, catching the charging man in a one-armed headlock and throwing him towards the floor. At this the second assistant jumped forward, seizing a metal first aid kit from a shelf and swinging it in a wide arc, bringing the thing down on Mordecai's head. Mordecai was stunned by the blow, giving the first assistant the few seconds he needed to throw the soldier off him. Dio raised the shotgun and shouted for the men to freeze. The second one threw the first aid kit at Dio's head. Dio raised his arms to block the flying metal box but the impact still forced him to stumble back two steps.

One of the Rockbell doctors, the woman, screamed "Run!" and the assistants bolted for the door. Mustang, hand reaching for his pistol, made as if to bar the men's escape, but the Ishbalan one plowed him over, knocking him flat on his back. Mustang hit his head on a table before hitting the floor and rolling to his side. Mordecai and Dio were already moving. Dio yelled for Mustang to 'take care' of these two and that he and Mordecai would get the runners.

As his comrades tore out the door, weapons up, Mustang hauled himself to his feet, drawing his pistol as he did. He leveled the gun at the doctors. "We were told to kill you if you resisted…" he said.

He didn't know why he said that, not then, not now. Maybe he just wanted to prevent them from trying anything like their assistants did. Maybe he wanted them to fear him, and out of fear obey. Maybe he meant it. Maybe he was just pissed off. He never knew.

Then he heard gunfire from outside, several shotgun blasts as Mordecai and Dio shot the fleeing men dead before they could get away. Mustang's head spun round at the sound, only to whip back to the Rockbells. For one second, one crazy-ass second, Mustang thought the husband was trying to charge him like the assistant had tried before. In that second, Mustang pulled the trigger.

The gun kicked back. The man took the bullet in the chest, stumbling backwards from the force of the round. Mustang shot again, hitting the doctor in the gut. As the man began to topple forward, his wife tried to grab onto him, tried to keep him standing. Mustang kept shooting.

The trigger clicked back again and again, following the targets down until the gun was empty.

Mustang stood there, empty smoking gun leveled at the bodies on the floor. He was crying. To say he couldn't believe what he had just done would be false; a more true statement would be to say his mind was gone entirely, numbed to death by what he'd just done.

Dio came back through the door, saying something Mustang didn't understand. Then the soldier stopped dead in his tracks when he saw what just happened. "Oh, shit."


	35. Chapter 35

**Chapter Thirty Five: Fireside Chat**

_Disclaimer: I do not own FMA. I do not own FDR._

The small convoy of military vehicles rattled and shook as it rumbled down the dirt road to Camp Carlyle. Mustang wondered why the military had spent so much money building this camp as a home for their special forces but never bothered to pave the goddamn road.

The trucks pulled around the last bend and pulled to a collective stop next to Camp Carlyle's main office.

Mustang got out of the truck and suddenly felt very out of place. Camp Carlyle was manned entirely by Special Forces units. Mustang saw a lot of Light Infantry green around, as well as the deep arsenic grey worn by the Mountaineers, and the lighter, silvery slate grey the Marines had adopted. But there were also a lot of soldiers clad in black uniforms, which Mustang did not recognize. As far as he knew, no one wore black fatigues. Then he began to recognize the individuals in the uniforms, and he realized that the black uniforms must be the Heavy Infantry.

The door to the office opened and Mordecai walked out and approached the new arrivals, saluting as he did so. "General O'Malley," he said.

"Brigadier General Mordecai," O'Malley said, returning the salute.

"Ya never told us ya were comin' up fer a visit, sir," Mordecai said.

"I know. I'm not here for a show, I want to see how you unit is progressing in its training. We're just here to observe."

Mordecai nodded. "A'ight then. Whatcha wanna see 'ere?"

"Well, General Geiger had a fit when you stole his E.W. unit. He'd want me to observe how they're doing in their new environment."

Mordecai nodded again. "Let's go," he said, indicating for the new arrivals to follow him.

He led them away from the center of the camp and down a road that had been cut through the woods. It opened up into a large oval-shaped clearing cut into the earth itself. Mordecai mentioned to the men how this used to be an old gravel pit but had shut down when the military bought the land and built the camp. Now it had become the test ground for the E.W. boys' experiments.

O'Malley was like a kid in a candy store, ecstatic over the new devices and weapons the E.W. unit had developed. They stayed there for about an hour before Mordecai was able to convince O'Malley that'd he'd seen enough and that he should let the E.W. crew get back to work. The General agreed, however reluctantly.

Mustang held his tongue, although it became more difficult by the minute as Mordecai lead O'Malley's party through a seemingly never-ending sequence of firing ranges, CQB-training facilities, mock trench systems, and something that struck Mustang as downright ridiculous. Apparently, the Heavy Infantry had built a gigantic plywood and compression board mock-up fortress and bunker system and were running drills.

"What's this, Mordecai?" Mustang laughed, "Your clubhouse?"

Mordecai glanced over his shoulder. "Mustang, fuck you."

Mustang could feel the blood building behind his eyes, but he bit his tongue when he caught a disapproving glare from O'Malley. The Alchemist said nothing else until the delegation returned to the main office. Mordecai thanked them all for coming and apologized but said there were a number of forms that needed his signature and they had been waiting on his desk all day. He turned the delegation over to Col. Corvin Caine for the rest of their review. O'Malley thanked Mordecai for his time and turned to follow Corvin, who was already talking about something or other involving the changing role of the heavy machine gun for the unit.

Mustang didn't give a shit about heavy machine guns. He waited a few seconds for O'Malley and the rest of his party to pass on ahead a bit before turning around and heading for the main office. He walked through the door, ignoring the glares slung his way from the soldiers in the building. The elite units of the military did not appreciate Alchemists very much.

Mustang continued down the hallway. The doors each had a little sing on them designating which branch of the elite units occupied this office. Mustang kept walking until he found the sign that read 'Heavy Inf. Command' and he opened the door and strode in.

Mordecai glanced up from his desk near the back of the small office. "Brigadier General…" he said, "to what th' _fuck_ do I owe th' pleasure?"

"Can it," Mustang hissed, looking back and forth from the other two desks in the room, "whose are these?"

Mordecai said nothing.

"Damnit, Mordecai! Don't be an asshole!"

"But you told me to 'can it,'" Mordecai said, grinning, laughing a little. Mustang glared at the man in black, realizing that he was being toyed with.

"Who uses these desks, Mordecai?" Mustang growled, trying to sound threatening.

Mordecai grinned wider, feral and rebel. "Why, those desks belong ta my Aide-de-Camp an' my Executive Officer, of course… those bein' Major Havoc and Lt. Col. Hawkeye, respectively."

Mustang narrowed his glare some more, near-squinting at his foe. "Where are they?" he said, almost a whisper, afraid if he raised his voice any higher he'd wind up screaming at the man.

"None o' yer business, that's where."

"Stop fucking around, Lt Col…" Mustang growled through gritted teeth.

Mordecai's head snapped upward from his desk at that. "Excuse me? What did ya jus' say?"

"'Stop fucking around.'"

"Not th't, after th't." Mordecai's voice was little bit lower now, and a whole lot deadlier.

Mustang caught the undercurrent that he'd found here. 'Oh, you mean your rank… _'Lt Col?'_"

Mordecai slowly rose from his chair. "Ya see this star?" he barked, jabbing a finger at the rank star on his collar.

"Oh," Mustang said, tone cutting and mocking, "I didn't see that there. Did they bust you down to Major? I apologize."

Mordecai went off. "Fuck it, Mustang! What th' _fuck_ d'ya 'bout _anythin_'? Yer a fuckin' prick alchemist who's been handed everythin' from day one! I joined th' military at th' fuckin' bottom o' th' barrel, an' I have slugged an' fought my way ta where I am now! 'Case ya ain't noticed, I'm th' same rank as yer ass is! Now get th' _FUCK_ out my office, bitch!"

Mustang fired back. "Look, I don't give a shit what rank you are! I don't give a shit about you! I don't care about anything you have to say about who you are or who you think I am!"

"Then what th' fuck are ya still doin' 'ere!? If ya don't 'give a shit' th'n vote with yer feet an' get th' fuck out!"

"I'm not here because of you or any of your shit!"

Mordecai made as if to respond, but caught himself, expression slowly sliding from fury to one more confident and assured. Mordecai nodded as he began to speak. "I know why yer 'ere. Well, 'ere's some advice; jus' get out, yer too late an' they're better off 'out you."

Mustang raised an eyebrow slowly. "What are you talking about?" he said, slow and venomous.

Mordecai cocked his head slightly to the side, a sharp-toothed grin drawing across his face. "Ya know what I mean. I mean Hawkeye an' Havoc." Mustang's eyebrow came back down quickly at this, narrowing into a death glare. Mordecai kept talking; "Jus' leave. They're both better off 'ere than they'll ever be with yer lot. Havoc, he's a Major now an' he's in th' best position he's ever been in! Come back in two o' three years an' he'll be runnin' a battalion o' regiment o' his own! O'Malley told me he wants ta triple th' size o' th' Heavy Infantry within five years an' ya can betcha ass Havoc will be runnin' one o' those new units! Now, Riza-"

Mustang cut the man off. "Don't call her that!"

"What? That's her name, ain't it?"

"Don't fucking call her that!"

"Ach, shut th' fuck up Mustang! Jus' get it through ya head th't she don't belong ta you an' she never did!"

"Just stop talking, damnit!"

"Hell no! Yer gonna hear this th'n yer gonna get out! She ain't yer's. She don't belong ta you. Ya can't keep thinkin' like she's yer little pet anymore! Ya treaded her like shit fer far too long, but now she's with people whot actually care 'bout her! Now she's got someone who actually loves her too!"

"Shut the fuck up!" Mustang roared, louder than anything he'd ever said before in his life. "What the _fuck_ do you think you know about what she wants! What the fuck do you actually know about her!"

Mordecai laughed once. "More th'n you ever will."

That was it. The straw that broke the camel's back. It was that statement, that laugh, that tone in Mordecai's voice, the intuition and insinuation behind the words. Mustang had had enough.

He snapped his fingers.

The first explosion blew Mordecai off his feet, straight back into the wall. The black clad soldier landed heavily, dropping to one knee and catching himself with his hand. Before the man could move again Mustang set off another blast over his target's right shoulder, blowing him to the floor. Then Mustang used a trick he hadn't called upon in a while. He set off an explosion underneath Mordecai, lifting him up into the air, then another blast immediately after, blasting Mordecai back into the ground. Mustang wondered how many of those it would take to kill the man. In all honesty, he could have ended his enemy's life with one explosion, but he didn't want to kill Mordecai outright, he wanted to hurt him as much as possible before Mordecai stopped feeling pain for good.

Then the door flew open, slamming against the wall as is flew all the way around. Mustang spun. He recognized the soldier who was framed in the doorway.

"Havoc!" Mustang shouted, surprised and happy to see his old subordinate.

Havoc looked stunned, unsure exactly what was happening and unsure with which of these men his loyalty lay.

"Smoke…" a low, strained voice hissed from the back of the room, "…duck."

Havoc dropped to the floor as he watched Mordecai seize a chair and hurl it forward, letting two words escape from his mouth; "Oh, shit."


	36. Chapter 36

**Chapter Thirty Six: All Roads**

_Disclaimer: I'm all tapped out on wit. I'll play it straight up; I don't own FMA._

Fall was coming through the door. The sun was coming down earlier each day as the leaves were slowly adopting the rich colors they wore as the air grew colder night after night and the land got ready to sleep for another winter.

Winter is strange. It's not a season any more than black is a color. Black is what you get when you turn out all the lights and can't see anything anymore. Winter is what you get when you turn back all the dials on life and make everything go to sleep inches from death. Winter, like black, is absence. And it fucking sucks.

Hawkeye didn't like fall. Fall meant winter was coming. She caught herself daydreaming and snapped her attention back to the matter at hand; snipers. As storm troops, they'd be fighting in a lot of close-range engagements, but Mordecai insisted the unit retain and maintain a quality corps of sharpshooters. Hawkeye had been put in charge of training the unit's marksmen with an array of new tricks to help them survive in a streetfight scenario. Today, they were working on firing at targets almost directly below them from a tower built specially for this purpose. This had proven rather difficult as you lose accuracy with plunging fire and the snipers were not used to shooting almost straight down.

Hawkeye, standing at the base of the tower, watched as the current marksman up on the tower stepped up to the edge and clicked off the safety on his gun. He barely winged the first target, but hit the next two dead center. Hawkeye smiled and waved at the man, indicating a good job. The man waved back as two other soldiers moved to rearrange the targets.

Hawkeye heard a motor approaching in the background and turned, watching a jeep come rumbling down the road through the trees towards the tower. The jeep pulled to a stop. It was covered, so Hawkeye could not tell who was in it. Dio jumped out of the vehicle and jogged over.

"Hey, Dio," she said, and then caught the concern and urgency on his face, "something wrong?"

"Yeah, you should get in the jeep. This is important."

Hawkeye nodded and followed Dio to the jeep, shouting over her shoulder that Hutch was in charge here until she got back. Dio clambered into the jeep, moving into the back seat, allowing Hawkeye to ride shotgun. She got in; noticed Beef was driving, and greeted the man as appropriate.

"Hey, Beef."

"Hawk," he replied, with seriousness in his voice as he turned the jeep around and began driving back down the dirt road towards the center of camp.

"Alright, what is it?" Hawkeye asked, "What the hell is going on?"

Dio sighed. "O'Malley showed up today, completely out of the blue. He brought Mustang with him."

"Mustang's here?" Hawkeye asked, surprised. She last saw her previous commander back in Vyronas and she hadn't been able to communicate with him since. O'Malley had ordered a moratorium placed on any out-bound personal communication from Camp Carlyle until the Heavy Infantry was finished training.

"Yeah," Beef spat, "He's 'ere. An' ya know what else? He tried ta kill Mordecai."

"What?" Hawkeye said, almost shouted. "He tried what?"

"Th' little _bitch_ tried ta blow up Mordecai. Usin' his fuckin' gloves and alchemy an' th't _shit_." Beef didn't so much say those words as spit them, anger sharpening them more than usual.

"He ain't lying," Dio interjected. "Mustang started blowin' stuff up and Smoke heard the blasts. He goes runnin' in there and Mustang turns around when the door opens. Mordecai then knocked Mustang out by throwing a chair from across the room."

Hawkeye didn't say anything, sitting in disbelief. Mustang was here, and not only here, but had attacked Mordecai. "Mustang attacked Mordecai?" she asked, still shocked by the idea.

"Yep." Dio said.

"Why didn't O'Malley or someone stop him?"

"No one else was there. Mordecai had turned O'Malley's little gang over to Corvin. Mustang broke away and found Mordecai in the office. Mustang started shouting and Mordecai started yelling back. Then the guys in the office heard some explosions and went running in, Smoke was first to move cuz he recognized what he was hearin'. When Mustang stopped his fireball bullshit, Mordecai threw the chair."

"Mustang just attacked him?" Hawkeye was stunned, that's the only way to describe it. She couldn't understand what these men were talking about. She knew Mustang and Mordecai hated each other, but the idea of a physical attack was something Hawkeye never considered possible.

"Well," Dio said, "They were talking fer a while in the office. Smoke and some of the other guys in the office could hear 'em yellin' at each other, then Mustang set off a couple explosions and Smoke threw open the door."

Hawkeye turned in her seat to look Dio in the eyes. "What were they yelling about?"

Dio looked away.

"We're here," Beef said, stopping the jeep and killing the engine.

Hawkeye clambered out of the jeep and looked around. They were back in front of the main office, but it seemed more alive than ever. Soldiers were everywhere, looking angry, aggressive. Their blood was up, and Hawkeye could tell. The mass of men seemed centered around the stairs up into the office. Hawkeye began pushing her way through, and once the men collectively realized that, they parted and let her pass through unimpeded. Tank and Brewster were standing at the base of the stairs, baring anyone from entering the office, but they stepped aside for Hawkeye, allowing her to take the stairs in three quick strides.

She entered the office. The room was quiet, but the air was heavy. Officers, both regulars from Central and elites from Carlyle filled the room. They all turned when Hawkeye entered the room. Their eyes went from Hawkeye, exchanging glances, back to Hawkeye, and then slowly, pair by pair, the eyes turned to each other, with the majority falling on Corvin Caine. Corvin sighed and lifted himself up off the desk he was seated on, nodding once, indicating Hawkeye follow him. He led her out of the main room and back to the office usually occupied by her, Havoc, and Mordecai. Corvin shut the door behind them.

"Corvin," she began, "what happened?"

The big man sighed. "O'Malley shows up, no warnin' o' nothin'. Wants a tour o' th' base, a review of th' trainin'. Mordecai leads him around for a while, shows him th' E.W. pit, some o' th' trenches, and th' fort out past th' hill. They get back here and Mordecai tells 'em ta fallow me. Mordecai had paperwork he had ta sign. Well, I start goin' off towards th' firin' ranges, th'n I turn 'round, an' we're short one alchemist. Th'n we hear a whole bunch o' yellin' and shoutin', so we go runnin' back here an' Smoke, he's all panicky an' shit, runnin' around, yellin' an' carryin' on in 'ere like ya wouldn't believe. Mordecai, well, he's all bruised up an' shit, bleedin' an' whatnot, burnt, too. I yell fer some guys ta take him off ta th' medics so they can patch him up. Th'n, I ask Smoke what jus' happened. He explains Mordecai was in his office, th'n Mustang goes in and they both start yellin' at each other. Th'n, he says, he heard th' blasts, so he goes runnin' in, everyone else 'ere gets up ta go after him. He opens th' door an' Mustang is all "Havoc!" an' shit; so Mordecai throws a chair at th' fucker when his back was turned. Hit's him in th' head, knocks him clean out. Mustang was still unconscious when I got 'ere."

"Where's Mustang now?" Hawkeye asked with nerves plainly audible in her voice.

"Mordecai told me ta get him out o' here before everyone found out 'bout what happened. We took him out the back door and loaded him up in one o' O'Malley's trucks and ran him out o' here fast as we could 'fore anythin' could happen."

Hawkeye nodded, breathing a sigh of relief.

Corvin's eyes narrowed a bit. "Mordecai, however, ain't got back from the medics yet," he said, sounding more than a little aggravated.

"Is he alright?"

"He'll be fine. Bruised up an' bleedin', but nothin' he ain't been through a thousand times worse a thousand times before."

Hawkeye nodded.

"Ya know he's in love with you."

Hawkeye nodded again, looking away from Corvin. Her eyes turned to look out the window, but the glass had been cracked in half lengthwise by the heat of Mustang's blasts. She turned her eyes from that, looking down at the floor.

"I know," she said.

"But yer still stuck somewhere between him an' Mustang."

"I know."

"Th'n why d'ya need me ta tell ya somethin' ya already know?"

Hawkeye sighed. "Just because I know where I am doesn't mean I know where to go."

Corvin nodded, sage-like. Corvin was a good man, although he was often reffered in terms relative to the crow, an owl would be a better analogy for the man; broad, serious, and wise. "I understand th't right 'nuff. But ya can't stay where yer at. Yer gonna hafta move in one direction o' th' other sooner o' later. Sooner would prob'ly be better th'n later."

There was silence.

"Ya know… there was a time I was gonna kill Mustang. Hell, there's been a couple. Every time Mordecai made sure I didn't. Every time."

"What?" Hawkeye's eyes were back up.

"Mordecai told me th't if I ever did anythin' ta hurt Mustang, he'd kill me."

"What? Why?" This made no sense. Mordecai and Mustang hated each other, vehemently, violently.

"'Cuz Mordecai knows th't ya swore ta protect Mustang. He's in love with you, so, fer all intents an' purposes, he's part o' th't promise now too."

Hawkeye said nothing.

"Way I see it, yer wastin' yer time protectin' Mustang. He don't deserve it."

"What do you mean?"

"What Mustang deserves… is a grave no one will ever find."

"Don't say that!" Hawkeye snapped.

"It's th' truth."

"What are you talking about? Why?"

"You think you know everythin' Mustang's ever done an' everythin' he's ever been responsible for? Ya don't! There's blood on th't man's hands th't you don't know 'bout! Blood th't don't belong there! _That's why!_" Corvin roared.

"Corvin," a familiar voice said.

Corvin spun round to meet the speaker. "Cooper," he said, smiling, glad to see his old friend was fine after the attack.

Mordecai nodded in response, stepping into the room followed by Beef and Dio. He looked very serious. "Hawk," he said, "please return to trainin' th' snipers. We got work ta do."

Hawkeye got up from her seat, smiling at the Brigadier General. "I'm glad you're alright, sir," she said, maintaining the atmosphere of a professional in the company of her comrades.

Mordecai returned a grin as Hawkeye followed Beef and Dio out of the office. Mordecai shut the door behind them.

"She needs ta know," Corvin said, his voice heavy as he is.

"No, she don't," Mordecai replied.

"Shit Cooper, what're you tryin' ta accomplish here? You ain't protectin' her from nothin' an' yer only hurtin' yerself!"

"She doesn't need th' pain th't it'd bring."

"Th' truth hurts, Cooper. But she'd get over any hurt from it. If anythin', it'd take away a lotta th' pain she's in right now."

"That's speculation."

"So's everythin' yer sayin'."

Mordecai glanced to the window and said nothing. Corvin took the initiative and pushed his point.

"Cooper, you know tellin' her th' truth is the right thing ta do. One, it'd help you out. You know she's caught between you an' Mustang, an' if she found out what he did you know she couldn't love him anymore. Two, it'd be better fer her. Mustang ain't good fer her an' she don't deserve ta be tied ta a prick like that. Moreover, all th' pain he causes in her would be gone. Thirdly, it's th' only thing ya can do th't would give those men's legacies th' honor they deserve."

"You don't think I've been runnin' this through my head every day fer th' last six years?"

"Fuck! Don't ya see what yer doin' here! You're lettin' that bastard walk away with murder!"

Mordecai was silent again, so Corvin pressed the attack.

"Rolf an' Milo dead, Vain lost a leg, two o' Big Mack's boys died, hell, Mack lost a quarter o' his fuckin' face! Shit, Cooper, Donner choked ta death on his own blood in Hawk's arms!"

"I know that! I was there fer all that!"

"Then do what's right an' take this man down!"

Mordecai looked away, the look a person gives when trapped somewhere no amount of tenacity or fighting will get them out of. It's what someone does when they're stuck in a situation where either action would hurt someone they care about. Mordecai tensed, hearing something he hadn't heard before. He glanced to Corvin and gestured for the big man to be quiet. Corvin nodded, catching that something was happening and that Mordecai wasn't, merely stalling for time.

Mordecai moved quickly and silently towards the door, pausing a second before throwing it open. His suspicions were confirmed. Someone had been eavesdropping, crouched down ear against the door.

"Hello, Smoke," Mordecai said.

Havoc looked up at his commander and breathed two infamous words that seemed to have become an integral part of his life these past months; "Oh, shit."


	37. Chapter 37

**Chapter Thirty Seven: Smother the Blaze**

_Disclaimer: I OWN FMA! (I wrote my disclaimer on opposite day.)_

"Brigadier General," the Lt said, opening the door to Mustang's office.

"Yes, Lt Breda?"

"Remember that interview you did with General O'Malley about the Heavy Infantry two weeks ago?"

"Yes," Mustang said, painfully, as if anything that reminded him of the Heavy Infantry hurt.

"Well, we've been ordered to do a follow up piece about the Heavy Infantry, sir."

"Why the fuck would we need to do that?" Mustang said, throwing his hands up over his head and spinning round in the chair so his back was to Breda. "What the hell else is there to say about the Heavy fucking Infantry?" Mustang had come to hate Public Relations.

Breda cleared his throat before going on. "Well, the First Heavy Infantry Battalion has been dispatched to the border with Creata. Apparently, there were a few enemy positions that High Command wanted taken and the Heavy Infantry just did it. This was their 'first combat operation and it was a test of their training and of their application in an actual combat environment,' according to the dossier we received this morning."

"Fantastic, Lt. Just fantastic."

"I felt I should bring this to your attention as soon as possible, sir. I have here the summary of the operation, a list of points the brass want mentioned in your press release, and a list of officers involved. I'll just leave this on your desk."

Something struck Mustang as odd about that. "Lt, since when are we asked to release the names of officers involved in an operation to the public?"

"We aren't, sir," Breda said flatly.

"Then why did you give me a list of them?" Mustang was watching the window, watching his subordinate's reflection.

"I called in a few favors, sir. Also, I found out the First Heavy Infantry Battalion will remain in frontline reserve for the rest of the month. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have an appointment with the intelligence department and I'd like to show up early."

"Thank you, Lt."

"My pleasure, sir," Breda said, smartly saluting before walking away, closing the door behind him.

Mustang slowly turned his chair around. Breda had indeed left a packet of papers on Mustang's desk. On top of the pile was a sheet of loose-leaf line paper with a list of names handwritten across it. Mustang recognized the slanted writing as Lt Breda's.

It was noted at the top of the page that this was a list of officers currently stationed as a reserve unit at Fort Karun, a position near the border with Creata. Mustang scanned the list, picking out names he recognized.

"Major Dante 'Tank' Franconi… why does it say 'Tank' in the middle of his name… oh! He must be Tank! Shit, way to go there Roy, real grade 'A' detective work… Major Charlie 'Beef' Saka… he's the one that behaves like a pitbull, I remember him… Major Carlos Calderon… no idea who that is… Major Anton Diotlas… Diotlas… why does that sound familiar… Diotlas, Diotlas… oh, yeah! 'Dio.' I know who that is… Colonel Corvin Caine… well, _someone's_ big on alliteration… he was the big red guy… well, and I wonder who _this_ is… Brigadier General Cooper Mordecai. Never heard _that_ name before. Why the fuck did Breda get me this?"

Then Mustang looked down at the note Breda had jotted down at the bottom of the page. It read as follows;

"In absence of Regimental C.O. (Brig Gen Mordecai) and Regimental Second in Command (Col Caine) command of 1st Heavy Infantry Regiment will be shared between C.O.'s of the 2nd and 3rd Battalions (Lt Col Morris and Lt Col Lombardo-Batista) and Regimental X.O. (Lt Col Hawkeye) They shall continue to act as command element for Heavy Infantry units still stationed at Camp Carlyle until either they are moved forward to join 1st Battalion or 1st Battalion returns to Carlyle."

There was another note just beneath that;

"1st Battalion of the 1st Heavy Infantry Regiment shall remain stationed at Fort Karun until end of the month when the 47th Infantry Battalion can be moved up to relive them."

Mustang sat back in his chair, gears in his brain clicking into action. He knew some sort of action was forthcoming against Creata. Everyone high up in the military did. This was just the tip of the iceberg. Similar actions of varying scale were taking place all along the border between the two nations, looking to provoke the Creatan military to respond. Suddenly, Mustang sat bolt upright in his chair, realizing simultaneously that Mordecai was miles away from Carlyle and that that meant he was too bust killing things to command the units still there. Included in those units were Hawkeye and Havoc. Mustang leapt to his feet and bolted out of his office, not stopping until he reached the office of Major General Horn, newly appointed commander of the Public Relations office.

Soon after his impromptu meeting with Horn, Mustang was across the base, in the office of General Mallory, overall commander of all Amestrian Military forces. From there he was back to Horn, then back to Mallory, then down to the office of Brigadier General Kilmer, one of Mallory's aides.

Mustang liked Maxwell Kilmer; he was intelligent, well-connected, and owed Mustang his life from an incident in Ishbal.

"Let me get this straight, Roy," Kilmer began, "you want to give up your current position in exchange for leadership of an infantry unit?"

"Yes, I do."

"Does Horn know about this?"

"Yes he does. I went to him first and he agrees with me that my talents as an alchemist would better serve this nation on the frontlines."

"Can he replace you? We're about to go to war. We need Public Relations for this."

"He told me he already has someone in mind for my current position."

"May I ask who?"

"Lt Col Merinos, Mallory's nephew."

"Ah, so I assume Mallory is fine with this, too?"

"Yes he is. Once he learned his nephew would take over my spot he became _greatly_ enthusiastic about my proposition. He told me to tell you to assign me as you saw fit."

"Well, with your rank and reputation I can't possibly give you a lower assignment than a regimental command."

Mustang grinned. "That's fine, just what I was thinking of."

Kilmer nodded. "Well, the easiest thing to do would be to assign you to command of one of our newly raised regiments. I could get you a different post, but that would take a while."

"Don't worry about it. A new unit is just fine."

"Alright, here's what we have on special this week… three new regiments just graduated from boot camp and will begin the second stage of training next week. They are the 313th, 314th, 315th Infantry Regiments. All are completely new. This is their first muster. Major General Hogg will be in command of them as a division once they complete the third level of training. That will be the 105th Infantry Division, in case you were wondering. You can have any Regiment you like out of them. Take your pick."

Mustang though about it for a second. "Not the 313th, I don't like numbers that are the same forwards and backwards…"

"So it'll be the 314th or the 315th then."

"Think I'll take the 315th. Don't want to be in the middle."

"Alright then. I'll contact Horn and Hogg about this and get the ball rolling."

"Oh, and one other thing, Max…"

"Yes?"

"I want you to transfer two other soldiers to my command. I like having a large command team, at least five soldiers."

"A standard combat regimental command team consists of only two soldiers, Roy, and you already have three."

"I know, but I prefer five. I have my X.O. and my aide as normal, but three more, who I can assign to each individual battalion. That way I can give each battalion the attention it deserves without distracting myself from the overall command of the unit." Kilmer didn't know Mustang had just completely made that up on the spot.

"Alright then, I'll be sure to transfer two extra officers to your team next chance I get."

"I want you to do it now, Max, and I don't want just any officers."

Kilmer raised one eyebrow.

"These two," Roy said, dropping two personnel files onto Kilmer's desk.

Kilmer looked a little nervous after skimming over the files. "I'm not sure if I can do that, Roy. They're both Heavy Infantry. O'Malley would pitch a fit if we touch his pet project."

"Well, that's too bad. Look, Max, we'll have yours and my signatures backing this order, plus General Horn and General Mallory. Once Hogg finds out he'll sign on in a heartbeat. That should easily overrule O'Malley. Plus, just transfer in two other guys to fill these soldiers' spots. Pick two really good ones, really full resumes, real hardcore, badass soldiers, the kind O'Malley likes. The kind that kill everything that moves. That way, any fuss he raises we can undermine it by saying we improved his unit."

Kilmer nodded. "Alright then."

Mustang beamed. "Thank you so much, Max."

Kilmer smiled. "Have fun on the frontlines, Roy," he said, rising to his feet and saluting.

Mustang sprang up and returned the salute before walking out of the office as Kilmer began yelling for subordinates to get the wheels of bureaucracy moving.

Mustang moved quickly through the halls and corridors of Central HQ. Horn said he could only justify transferring Mustang to a combat position and Mallory was happy to provide one. Plus, command of a high number greenhorn regiment was a great posting. They would never see heavy action. It was common knowledge that the grizzled low number units always got sent in first and the high digits were used as garrison and reserve units.

He laughed to himself, thinking of how great a garrison post would be, especially one near a major city, with both Hawkeye and Havoc back by his side and the disaster that was Cooper Mordecai somewhere far away taking out his anger on the enemies of the nation.

Mustang grinned and laughed to himself. _Everybody wins _he thought.

"Well someone's looking strangely cheerful today!" a familiar voice rang out from behind Mustang.

Mustang spun round. "Hello, Maes."

"And what's got you smiling again?"

Mustang grinned. "I figured it out. I found a way to get Hawkeye and Havoc back, get me out of that fucking P.R. office, and keep Mordecai as far away from me as possible."

Hughes raised an eyebrow. "And that would be…"

"I'm taking command of the 315th Infantry Regiment."

"Well, I can see how that gets you out of P.R., but what does that have to do with Mordecai, Hawkeye, and Havoc?"

"A high-number infantry unit won't be anywhere near the Heavy Infantry ever. We're about to go to war with Creata, right? That means we're going to be moving a lot of units westward, right? Well, that means garrison posts will need to be filled by the new units they're mustering. Command of one of those units would keep a suitable distance between me and _any_ of the so-called 'elite' units."

"And Hawkeye and Havoc?"

"Well, Brigadier General Kilmer was the one who filed the orders for reassignment related to this."

Hughes nodded, comprehending. "And you had him reassign Hawkeye and Havoc to your command."

"Just hope you don't get posted to Vyronas again!" Hughes said, the joke evident in his eyes.

Mustang laughed before realizing he very well might wind up back in that hellhole of a posting. "Oh, shit."


	38. Chapter 38

**Chapter Thirty Eight: The Flames Finally Recede**

_Disclaimer: I do not own FMA. _:(

Mordecai rapped his fingers against the glass, watching the scenery fly by as the train speed along toward the military rail depot that served Camp Carlyle. Mordecai, Corvin, Dio, Tank, Beef, and Calderon were finishing off the report on the Heavy Infantry's actions these past two weeks.

"A'ight," Mordecai said, "what'd we learn?"

"We'll need _Combat_ Engineers," Corvin replied, stressing the word 'combat.' "More o' 'em. Better trained an' better armed, too."

Everyone nodded. The Heavy Infantry knew there would be some difficulty in assaulting certain enemy fortifications without the engineers' help, but the engineers had trouble in combat because they were not trained for the type of brutal, heavy fighting the Heavy Infantry was built for.

"I'll talk to O'Malley," Mordecai said, "see if he'll let th' Heavy Infantry assimilate a new branch under its banner. See if he'll let a unit o' Combat Engineers join up o' somethin'."

Everyone nodded. It was a good idea.

"We also need more o' th' stuff the E.W. crew cooked up, especially more grenade launchers. Those things were fuckin' great!" Beef said.

"Hell, we just need more!" Corvin shouted. "More o' everythin'! Bigger units, more weapons, more o' whatever we can get!"

Everyone agreed, loudly, emphatically.

"A'ight, I'll inform O'Malley as such," Mordecai said.

"Attention!" the train's P.A. system crackled to life. "We're comin' up on the depot now, all units, prepare ta disembark!"

"Go get yer men ready," Mordecai said, waving for his corps of officers to organize their men as best they could.

The train slowed to a stop at the platform and the doors swung open, men clambering out of the train as military railway work crews found to maintain some semblance of order and reason.

Mordecai watched as his men were herded into waiting trucks and their heavier equipment loaded onto trucks of its own. Mordecai also watched as sixty-two coffins were unloaded and placed in their own small convoy of vehicles. Once the Brigadier General was certain everything was off the train and truck-bound for Carlyle he boarded the last vehicle there, a basic military jeep that had been waiting for him this whole time. It was crewed by two men, both Lt Col's. Mordecai recognized them both. They were the commanders of his 2nd and 3rd Battalions; Lt Col Shaun Morris and Lt Col Vincent Lombardo-Batista, respectively.

"Morris, Vinny," Mordecai said, grinning, greeting his two subordinates. Lombardo-Batista, commonly reffered to as "L-B," used to be Light Infantry, 9th Battalion to be specific. Morris was ex-regular infantry, added to the unit in Mordecai's campaign of picking apart distinguished units to beef up the Heavy Infantry.

"Boss, we got some bad news fer ya," L-B said, looking serious. He was a little guy, short and slim, but fiercely energetic.

Mordecai could tell something had happened in his absence. "What is it?"

"Hawk an' Smoke got transferred out," L-B replied.

"What?" Mordecai said, "Transferred? Transferred where? What th' fuck do ya mean?" He didn't get it. It didn't make any sense that someone would transfer them out. The Heavy Infantry was O'Malley's project. No one would dare touch it.

"It took some diggin' ta figure this one out, sir," Morris said in his characteristic low rumble. Shaun Morris was a big man. Six foot eight and heavy, with thick dreadlocks down his back and the darkest skin any human being had ever possessed. "Ta make a long story short, Mustang took command o' some new infantry regiment they jus' mustered up. He had Hawk and Smoke transferred ta th't unit ta be his command team."

Mordecai didn't say anything for a few seconds. "How th' fuck do ya steal someone else's X.O. an' their aide 'out any red flags goin' up?"

"He transferred in two other guys," Morris said. "I know 'em. You almost let 'em inta th' unit back when ya first pulled it all together but ya already had enough officers and di'n't wanna hafta bust anyone down ta let 'em in. They're good men, sir."

Mordecai didn't say anything, climbing into the jeep's passenger seat, motioning for L-B and Morris to follow suit. L-B jumped into the backseat while Morris got behind the wheel, turning over the engine and shifting into gear.

No one spoke for a while. Mordecai kept his eyes focused on the road, glare fit to burn the earth before him.

The jeep eventually pulled into Carlyle itself. The atmosphere was almost carnival as the units stationed here welcomed home the 1st Heavy Battalion. Mordecai stepped off the jeep and quickly slipped up the stairs and into the office before anyone noticed he had arrived. He wasn't in the mood for festivities.

As Mordecai came through the door he found the office empty save for one man. Corvin was on the phone, saying goodbye and hanging up. He turned, call over. "Hey, Cooper," he said, calmly, sounding just a little bit tired, "just called my family, lettin' 'em know 'm alright."

Mordecai nodded.

"There somethin' wrong?" Corvin said, sensing fury in his friend.

Mordecai didn't so much as say his response as growl it. "Hawkeye an' Havoc… Mustang had 'em transferred out, transferred back ta him."

Corvin made a face of pure disbelief. "Are you serious?"

Mordecai nodded.

Corvin swore, "Oh, shit."


	39. Chapter 39

**Chapter Thirty Nine: Ashes, Just Pray They Are Cold**

_Disclaimer: I own 0% of FMA._

Mustang watched as the 315th Infantry Regiment, _his_ regiment, proudly arrayed itself across the parade ground, uniforms crisp and pressed, motions polished and precise. Roughly thirty-six hundred men aligned themselves for their final morning in this camp. They were his unit, his regiment, his command, his men. Mustang suddenly understood what it felt like to be a commander of men; he suddenly understood what it meant. He understood the pride Mordecai had in his rank and position, something he never before comprehended, but now understood completely, seeing it from this side for the first time. These were his men, and he was their leader and commander. And it was great.

The door opened and Mustang turned away from his office window. "Good morning, Lt Col," he said as Hawkeye entered the room.

"Good morning, sir," she replied, smiling, almost gentle. "Lt General Stamp has arrived."

"He's early."

"When isn't he?"

Mustang only nodded solemnly in response. Valentine Stamp, a three-star general and General Mallory's chief aide in charge of Amestrian Infantry, was famous for always, _ALWAYS,_ showing up without warning and always getting his work done early so he could begin the next project early as well. "Show him in, then."

Hawkeye opened the door fully and Stamp, a tall, slim, serious man with sharp grey eyes and thinning hair strode smartly into the room. "Brigadier General Mustang," said he.

"Lt General Stamp," the alchemist replied.

Stamp nodded over his shoulder towards Hawkeye, who saluted and left, closing the door behind her.

"Please have a seat," Mustang said, indicating the two chairs before his desk.

Stamp nodded once and sat down, placing his briefcase upright on the floor beside him. "It's good to see you again, Brigadier."

"Same to you, sir."

"Your unit has progressed through training with commendable skill and through discipline. I'm mostly impressed by the second of those facets."

"Well sir, I've had quite a bit of experience in dealing with an undisciplined unit."

"I trust you are referring to the Light Infantry, Brigadier General Mordecai's now-Heavy unit in particular."

"That I am."

"What did that experience teach you, about discipline?"

"I learned, sir that an undisciplined unit is extremely difficult to work with. Mordecai's men were very effective fighters, but that was solely because of their individual skills. On the whole, their lack of discipline made them, as I said, extremely difficult to work with. And no unit fights a war alone. We must work in concert with other units, side by side. Discipline facilitates that."

Stamp nodded. "I am surprised and greatly impressed by your insight, Mustang. I did not expect it from an officer of your youth."

"Thank you, sir."

"Although," Stamp continued, "this is your first command. Do you feel prepared for such a duty?"

"Absolutely, sir. I am fully aware that I have never commanded a body of men as large as this, but I am confident in both them and in myself. They are, as you brought up, highly disciplined and I do not have to fight to command them. Secondly, my large command team allows me to maintain, through my aides, a more direct contact with each Battalion under my command without forcing myself to divide my attention from the operations of the Regiment as a whole."

Stamp nodded again. "Very impressive, Brigadier General. You'll make a fine General someday, and that's General with a capital 'G.'"

Mustang smiled widely despite his will. "Thank you sir!"

Stamp smiled in reply, the tight, controlled smile of the older in response to the energy of youth. "Moreover, General Mallory requested I present your marching orders to you personally." He reached for his briefcase.

"Thank you again, sir," Mustang said, more seriously this time. The dispatch of a three-star general to deliver a mere assignment was a great show of respect.

A folder came out of the briefcase and was laid across Mustang's desk. "Have your men ready to depart by 1900 hours tonight. The train will be at the camp station by then. Be sure they eat their dinner before then. The train will take you to the depot at Western HQ. From there we will get your men to the front."

Mustang's attention snapped hard onto that last word. "The 'front,' sir?"

Stamp rose from his chair. "It's all in your orders, Mustang. Now, I must leave. I have an appointment with the commander of the 202nd Regiment. Goodbye, and good luck, Mustang."

Mustang rose and returned the salute. Stamp walked out, briefcase on his left side.

Mustang hastily flipped open the orders and began to read, not noticing the door open again.

"General," a voice said.

Mustang looked up. "Hawkeye, Breda."

"Are those our marching orders, sir?" Hawkeye asked, recognizing the green trim along the folder. Green trim always meant an order that took immediate effect.

"Yes," Mustang answered.

"Where we headed?" Breda said next, energy behind the words.

"The Creatan Front, Lt."

"Combat, sir?" Hawkeye asked, surprised by the posting. No one expected such a high-number unit to be sent directly to the frontlines.

"Yes, combat."

Breda settled back onto himself, looking up at the ceiling and groaning two words; "Oh, shit."


	40. Chapter 40

**Chapter Forty: This Fire Does Not Die, It Just Spreads**

_Disclaimer: I'm proud to say I successfully combo'd not owning FMA for 40 chapters!_

Mordecai sat in his chair, leaning back, hand resting heavy upon his desk, the cigarette smoldering between his fingers. He was looking out the window, still cracked lengthwise across. He'd never bothered to order it fixed.

The door opened and Corvin walked in, nodding towards Major Holland and Lt. Col. Valler, Mordecai's new aide and X.O., respectively.

Mordecai looked away from the window. "'Lo, Corvin," he said.

"Coop," Corvin replied, easing himself into one of the two chairs that faced Mordecai's desk. "We got th' assignments fer th' C-E's jus' now."

'C-E' was the abbreviation and now nickname for the Combat Engineers. Mordecai had spent the last two months in a state of absolute intensity, drilling the soldiers at Carlyle endlessly, pushing them further and further beyond what they ever thought they could do. He brought in more men for the unit, increasing the size of the Heavy Infantry until over five thousand troopers proudly wore the black uniforms. He also set about the creation of the new Combat Engineers.

Combat Engineers were engineering crews, heavily armed and armored, trained not only in demolition and other engineering type things, but in storm trooper spearhead operations and close quarters fighting. They were a special type of unit; the kind you assigned to an attack to help the main force break through enemy defenses, to help crack through the shell to get at the foe within.

There were a total of twelve C-E teams, each thirteen soldiers strong. They were classified as a branch of the Heavy Infantry and wore the black uniforms and carried the same guns in addition to their engineering gear.

"A'ight," Mordecai said, reaching for the dozen manila file folders Corvin was carrying. "Anythin' weird in 'em?"

"Nope," Corvin said. "It's pretty much what ya told O'Malley ta do with 'em. We get ta keep teams 1, 2, 3, an' 4 jus' like ya wanted. 5 an' 6 are gonna be on reserve, and th' rest were assigned ta support regular infantry units chosen ta spearhead Operation Oxbow."

Mordecai nodded, flipping quickly through the files. "Does it say where th' teams are bein' assigned?"

"Yep."

"Good." Mordecai opened a new folder.

Corvin looked out the window. He didn't know why Mordecai had refused to get it fixed. Corvin was worried about his friend. Since Hawkeye and Havoc were transferred, _stolen_ in the collective mind of the elite forces, Mordecai had changed. He'd become more intense, more driven, more brutal. He'd pushed the entire training and drill regimen of every unit in Camp Carlyle to, through, and beyond the breaking point. He made the environment as close to combat as possible. Hell, soldiers were having mental and emotional breakdowns under the pressure Mordecai was hammering into them. Corvin actually preferred the training this way, it prepared the men better for the emotional and psychological strains of combat, but it was risky. If this had been forced upon any unit except these, the most elite in all of Amestris, the result would have been catastrophe.

Mordecai opened the last folder. "Team Twelve…" he said.

Corvin snapped his wandering mind back into gear. "What?"

"Team Twelve," Mordecai replied, "under th' command o' Major Jackson MacKenna."

Corvin grinned and nodded. "Aye," he said, "Good ta see Big Mack again, even better ta 'ave him leadin' one o' these C-E crews. Where'd his crew get assigned?"

"Says 'ere they're attached ta th' Three-hundred an' fifteenth-… ah, fuck!"

"What?" Corvin sat straight up, sensing sudden tension from his commander.

Mordecai was quick to his feet, barking orders. "Valler, Holland! Where th' hell is th' report on Hawkeye and Havoc's transfers?"

The two officers were quick out of their desks and began tearing into the two-dozen file cabinets that lined the north wall of the office.

Corvin didn't say anything, looking back and forth between the two men scrambling through the poorly, barely organized file cabinets and Mordecai, who was frantically flipping through a notebook of his own, looking for something, urgency plain across his face.

"Cooper, what-" Corvin began to say.

"Found it!" Major Holland shouted, holding a thin folder above his head before tossing it, frisbee-like, across the room to Mordecai.

Corvin, Holland, and Valler exchanged glances in the few seconds as their commander read over the report.

"Fuck!" Mordecai barked, slamming a fist into his desk.

"What?" Corvin.

"Big Mack's crew has been assigned to th' 315th Infantry Regiment." Mordecai.

"And…?" Corvin.

"Th' 315th is Mustang's regiment."

The realization hit Cooper like a brickbat, and he breathed two words, plainly audible in the silence of the room; "Oh, shit."

(A'ight. So that's it for Fire, Blood, and Serious Burns, and I'd just like to say thank you for reading and for the support you guys give me through reviews and such. But, hell, the story ain't over! A sequel is already in the works, documenting the actions of the 315th in Operation Oxbow. But, if you think everything is all well and good and finally in order, then you're in for a large, angry surprise with a quarter-face of steel. Hell, if you thought Cooper Mordecai was bad, just wait until you meet Jackson MacKenna! See you again once Steel, Flames, and Death hits!

-The Mad Mailman)


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